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It’s Jamie who notices it first—the frankly covetous way Tyler runs his palm over Jagr’s curls, how hungry his eyes are even as he laughs and makes a joke.

Jagr’s not far behind, though, amusement in his own eyes mixed with a sharp, predatory interest.

When Tyler skates away, back to the center line, Jamie takes the opportunity to move in just a fraction.

“My room is 326,” he says quietly, and he can feel Jagr’s focus snapping to him with an almost audible click. It’s heady and unnerving, and Jamie swallows hard before continuing. “We’ll both be there.”

Jagr considers him for a long moment, making Jamie’s stomach dip and swoop, and then the ref’s whistle blows.

Jamie doesn’t remember much of the game after that, too hyper-aware of Jagr across the ice. Tyler keeps shooting him quizzical glances, but he says nothing until they’re on their way back to the hotel.

“Everything okay?” he asks under the general chatter of the others.

Jamie nods, and when Tyler doesn’t look convinced, briefly grips his thigh. “Later,” he murmurs, and he can feel Tyler relax.

 

In the room—nominally Jamie’s, but everyone knows Tyler shares it with him—Tyler sheds his coat with a relieved sigh and flops backward on the bed, hands busy with the buttons on his shirt.

Jamie kicks off his shoes and crawls on the mattress, straddling Tyler’s thighs.

Tyler smiles up at him. He looks tired but happy, and Jamie can’t help bending to kiss him. He loves kissing Tyler—the way he opens so willingly, winds his arms around Jamie’s neck and arches into the contact.

Actually, he loves everything about Tyler. His goofy giggle, the way his smile takes over his entire face. His slapshot, how he brings all his focus and determination to every game. The way he rolls on the floor with the dogs and acts like an idiot to make small children laugh. Even his extroversion, the way he needs people around him, is easy to bear because it’s Tyler. Jamie will never be tired of him, not if they live to be 200 years old.

Tyler hums contentedly into his mouth. “How’d I get so lucky?” he murmurs.

Jamie laughs, unbuttoning the next closure on Tyler’s shirt. “Just thinking the same thing,” he admits. He kisses Tyler’s collarbone and Tyler slips a hand into his hair.

“Not too tired?” he teases.

“For you? Think I’d have to be dead,” Jamie said, and sucks a mark into Tyler’s skin. After a few minutes, he lifts his head, ignoring Tyler’s protests. “I have a question.”

Tyler makes a questioning noise, busy kissing along Jamie’s jaw.

“What would you think about inviting someone else into our bed?”

Tyler goes utterly still beneath him and Jamie lifts his head to look down at him.

“Is that a no? It’s okay if it is, for the record.”

Tyler hesitates, but shakes his head. “No. It’s not—fuck, Jameson, way to spring it on a guy. Give me a minute to think about it.”

Jamie obeys, going back to sucking another vivid mark over Tyler’s collarbone.

“F-fuck,” Tyler says, unsteady. “What—what did you have in mind?”

“You, me, and someone else,” Jamie murmurs. He licks the spot he created. “Someone we’re both into. Someone who can help me take you apart properly.”

Tyler bucks up against him with a choked off moan. Reaching between them, Jamie cups his erection through the fabric of his dress pants, rubbing the head and watching Tyler’s face, the way his eyes slip shut and he shudders.

“It wouldn’t be—you’re not getting tired of me?” There’s uncertainty in Tyler’s voice, and Jamie’s heart squeezes painfully. He surges up to kiss him.

“Never,” he says fiercely between kisses. “Never, Ty, you’re… you’re it for me, okay? Always and forever.”

Tyler searches his face and finally one corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” Jamie says. He can’t resist kissing him again. “But someone else—it could be fun, right?

“Depending on the person, yeah,” Tyler admits. “Did you have someone in particular in mind?”

“Uh.... Jagr?”

Tyler freezes again. “Seriously?”

It’s okay if you’d rather not,” Jamie hurries to say.

Tyler tightens his arms around Jamie’s neck. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been crushing on him?”

“Define crushing,” Jamie says, narrowing his eyes, and Tyler throws his head back and laughs. Jamie takes the opportunity to nip at the long line of his throat, because he believes in seizing opportunity when it’s presented to him.

Tyler gasps, cupping the back of Jamie’s skull and rolling his hips in a vain attempt to find friction.

“You know I p-played with him in Boston?” he manages eventually. “For like five minutes, but still.”

Jamie hums against Tyler’s throat.

“I just—he plays the most beautiful hockey,” Tyler gasps as Jamie uses his teeth to graze a tender spot. “And he’s fucking gorgeous, I mean you’ve seen him, those eyes and that smile— fuck, Jamie, do that again.”

Jamie bites down a little harder, and Tyler whimpers, hand tightening painfully in his hair just as there’s a knock on the door.

When Jamie lifts his head, Tyler’s glaring at him. “You already invited him.”

“You didn’t see the way he looked at you when you touched his hair,” Jamie counters, kissing Tyler’s nose and making him wrinkle it. “Besides, if you’d said no, all I’d have had to say is that you weren’t up for it. You know he wouldn’t make it awkward.”

Tyler grumbles but releases him so Jamie can roll off the bed and answer the door, making a vain attempt to straighten his hair and clothes before he gets there.

He’s not successful, judging by Tyler’s snicker and the way Jagr’s eyebrows shoot up when Jamie opens the door.

“Get started without me?” he purrs.

“Figured there was no harm in warming him up,” Jamie says, and grins conspiratorially at him. Jagr returns it as he steps inside the room and rakes his eyes up and down Tyler’s long body where he’s propped on his elbows on the bed, watching him hungrily.

“Look at you,” Jagr murmurs. He undoes his cufflinks and drops them in his pocket. “You want this, beautiful boy?”

Tyler’s throat bobs as he swallows, but he nods, eyes darting between Jagr and Jamie.

“Rules,” Jagr says, not looking away from Tyler.

“Either of us says stop, you stop immediately,” Jamie says.

Jagr nods, opening his top button.

“No rough stuff. No blood. No impact play.” Jamie knows Tyler’s limits, exactly what he can take and what he can’t. “You can play with his bruises, though. He likes that.”

Jagr hisses through his teeth. “You want to get him naked for us?”

“With pleasure,” Jamie says. He stalks for the bed and Tyler watches him approach, apprehension and arousal warring in his eyes. Jamie catches his hand and pulls him upright. Tyler sways into him briefly and Jamie slides an arm around his waist. “You need to stop, you just say so,” he murmurs, and waits for Tyler’s nod before pushing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.

Once he’s bare from the waist up, Jamie takes a minute to stroke over Tyler’s well-defined abdomen, up over his pectoral—grazing ever-so-lightly against his nipple—and then down again, across the cut of his hip.

When he drops to his knees, Tyler gulps loudly. Jamie smirks up at him, fingers busy with his belt.

Jagr steps closer. He’s stripped to his boxers, and Jamie takes a minute to admire his solid core, the dusting of salt-and-pepper hair over his firm pecs that trails down beneath his boxers. He glances back at Tyler and they share a silent moment of holy fuck he’s hot.

“You can call me Jarda,” Jagr says, and leans in to kiss Tyler.

Jamie can feel Tyler freeze beneath his hands, and he leans back on his heels to watch hungrily. Jarda licks into Tyler’s mouth, immediately taking control, one hand on the back of his neck to angle his head exactly where he wants.

It’s the hottest thing Jamie’s ever seen, but the night is young. He resumes working on Tyler’s belt buckle, fumbling because he can’t take his eyes off the way Jarda has Tyler tilted back, an arm around his waist to steady him. Tyler’s gone limp against him, cooperating willingly but not taking the lead.

When Jarda pulls away, Tyler’s head falls back. His breathing is ragged and unsteady.

Jamie finally gets the belt buckle free and pushes the pants down to pool around Tyler’s feet in a silky puddle. He’s so hard it has to be painful, his erection a hard line in his boxers and a wet spot spreading. Jamie leans in and mouths along it, making Tyler jerk, a muffled whimper escaping him, but Jarda captures his mouth again, hand along his jaw to hold his head in place this time.

God, he could watch them making out all day, Jamie thinks, but instead he guides Tyler’s feet out of his pants, patting his calf approvingly when he’s free of the fabric.

“What you want?” Jarda husks when he draws back.

Tyler blinks rapidly and Jamie rolls onto the balls of his feet and up.

“He likes me to take the lead,” he says, cupping Tyler’s face.

Tyler turns into Jamie’s palm, eyes slipping closed. Jamie can tell he’s already halfway under, his body going soft and pliant.

“He okay?” Jarda asks, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah.” Jamie strokes a thumb over Tyler’s high cheekbone. “He likes to let go. Only happens with people he really trusts, so you should feel honored.”

Jarda makes a considering noise. “Anything I should know?”

“Don’t pull him out of this headspace too fast,” Jamie says. He drops his hand to the hard line of Tyler’s erection, running a finger along it. “No sharp pain. And follow my lead.”

Jarda nods. “Your show,” he murmurs, a smile curling his mouth. “I’m just here for fun, yes?” He takes a step closer to Jamie, searching his face. “And you? What do you like?”

“Um.” Jamie can’t think with Jarda so close, close enough Jamie could smell his aftershave—sweet and sharp with a bite to it. Much like the man himself , he thinks, and Jarda closes the gap and kisses him.

It’s… not good. Not that Jarda can’t kiss—far from it. But he wants to take the lead, and Jamie instinctively pushes back against that idea. There are teeth and grappling for the right position, Jarda trying to take over, bend Jamie back and take his mouth properly, and Jamie grunts as they try to find the right fit.

Jarda breaks the kiss and takes a step back, his eyes amused and rueful. “So we both learn something, I think?”

Jamie wipes his mouth. Tyler’s watching him, hunger on his face, and Jamie cups his cheek briefly.

“On the bed,” he says.

Tyler goes immediately, nearly tripping over his discarded pants, and sprawls out in the middle of the huge bed, arms and legs flung wide. Jamie sheds his clothes and crawls on after him, settling behind him on the mattress. He taps Tyler’s shoulder and Tyler scoots up the bed until his back is pressed to Jamie’s stomach, trapping Jamie’s erection between them.

Jamie rubs their cheeks together, soft skin and rougher beard, and splays a hand over Tyler’s abdomen.

“Come on,” he says to Jarda, who’s watching them. “You can get him ready.”

Jarda’s eyes heat and he pushes his boxers off. Jamie and Tyler catch their breath at the same time. He’s huge, easily nine inches and with girth to match.

“Fuck,” Tyler whispers. He leans back to look at Jamie. “Can he fuck me, Jamie? Please?”

“If you want him to,” Jamie says. “And he’s willing.”

“He’s willing,” Jarda rasps. He settles between Tyler’s spread thighs, smoothing a hand over the ropy muscle. Tyler twitches but doesn’t move, breath coming a little faster, as Jarda hooks his thumbs under his waistband and pulls the boxers down, slowly and carefully until Tyler’s erection falls free. Tyler lifts his hips so Jarda can get them down and off, dropped carelessly off the edge of the bed.

He licks his lips, surveying Tyler’s naked body offered up to him like a gift, a sacrifice, and skims his palm over the head of Tyler’s cock.

Tyler makes a noise, hips jerking.

“There’s just one rule for you,” Jamie says, still caressing Tyler’s abs. “You’re not allowed to come until I say, Ty.”

Jarda laughs out loud, bright and disbelieving, and Tyler rolls his head sideways on Jamie’s shoulder to look into his face.

“Are y’fucking serious?”

Jamie bends to kiss him. “Deadly,” he murmurs against his mouth. “You feel yourself getting close, you tell me. Tap out, signal somehow. Do not come until you’re given permission.”

Tyler whines, wriggling in place and making Jamie’s eyes cross at the friction against his cock. “Jamie,” he says plaintively.

“Shh,” Jamie says, kissing him again. “We’re gonna take care of you, I promise.”

He can feel when Tyler relaxes, ceding control, and Jamie makes eye contact with Jarda, who nods.

“You have supplies?”

Jamie gestures with his chin toward the condoms and lube on the bedside table. He really likes the way Jarda’s eyes crinkle with his smile as he picks up the bottle of the lube to inspect it.

“Good stuff,” he says, and resettles himself between Tyler’s legs. “Does he take it well, Jamie?”

“So well,” Jamie says. He finds one of Tyler’s nipples and rolls it to a nub between his fingers, loving the way Tyler’s breath hitches but he doesn’t move. “He loves being fucked. Always hungry for it.”

Jarda hums approvingly. The bottle lid clicks and he coats one finger liberally, watching Tyler’s face. Instead of going straight for his hole, though, he clasps Tyler’s shaft with his lube-slick hand and strokes.

Tyler groans, arching his back and trying to roll his hips into Jarda’s hand. Jamie pins him down without thinking about it and he’s rewarded by an approving look from Jarda.

“Jamie,” Tyler whimpers, and Jamie presses their cheeks together.

“You trust me?”

Tyler nods jerkily.

“Then let go,” Jamie murmurs.

Tyler turns his head and Jamie kisses him, savoring the soft breaths and muffled noises he pulls from him with every sweep of his tongue.

He knows when Jarda’s slipped the first finger inside. Tyler goes rigid, gasping against Jamie’s mouth, and Jamie deepens the kiss, hands roaming over Tyler’s chest. He grazes a nipple and Tyler shudders, so Jamie does it again, squeezing and rolling the bud until it’s a stiff peak.

When he breaks for air, he’s struck briefly dumb by the beautiful sight in his lap. Tyler’s eyes are closed, the blush he hates so much pinking his chest and spreading up his throat. His lips are red and wet, and he looks blissful, head tipped back on Jamie’s shoulder.

Then he jerks and gasps, and Jamie looks down his body to where Jarda is crouched between Tyler’s thighs.

Jarda grins up at him, wolfish and hungry. “Up to three already.”

Jamie looks at Tyler, his limbs loose with trust and pleasure, head lolling, and swallows hard. It’s his responsibility to take care of Tyler in this headspace, to make sure he’s safe and nothing happens that he doesn’t want. The enormity of it strikes him like a slap, making him briefly dizzy, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

The crinkle of a condom wrapper pulls him out of the moment and he opens his eyes. Jarda’s on his knees, but he’s not putting the condom on himself. Instead he rolls it down Tyler’s shaft in quick, expert motions.

“Hold him down,” he says.

At the first touch of his mouth, Tyler bucks, and Jamie acts on instinct, slapping a hand over his mouth before he can make a noise. Tyler moans, muffled against his palm, and Jamie watches, spellbound, as Jarda works Tyler over.

He’s clearly very good at this. Tyler is tense, every muscle trembling, and Jamie has to put real effort into holding him still. Jarda’s mouth is busy but so is his hand, just out of sight between Tyler’s legs, and Tyler turns his face into Jamie’s throat with a sob.

“S-stop,” he manages, and Jarda freezes.

There’s breathless silence for a minute as Tyler fights his way back from the edge. Finally he blows out a shaky sigh and Jamie tilts his head back and kisses him.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs against Tyler’s mouth. “Proud of you, baby.”

Tyler’s eyes are dazed, unfocused, but he kisses back sweetly, and Jamie glances at Jarda, who’s still waiting.

“If you want to fuck him, now’s the time.”

Jarda’s eyes heat. “I want him on his knees.” He shuffles back to give them room and Jamie helps Tyler roll over so they’re face to face. Tyler’s eyes are wide, pupils so blown only a thin ring of brown remains. His lips are bitten red and his face is flushed, and there’s nothing but utter trust in his expression.

Jamie can’t help kissing him again and Jarda laughs softly.

“You two are sweet,” he murmurs. He leans down and sets his teeth against a bruise on Tyler’s hip, making him jerk.

Jamie fishes for another condom without taking his eyes off what Jarda is doing, which involves running his hands up and down Tyler’s smooth back, pressing his thumbs into the small marks he finds, exploring hungrily before accepting the foil packet from Jamie and sitting back on his heels.

Tyler pushes up on his hands to kiss Jamie again and they make out, sweet and soft, while Jarda gets ready and positions himself. Tyler breaks the kiss with a hurt noise when Jarda pushes in, his spine bowing and head falling back.

“Slow,” Jamie says sharply.

Jarda mutters something in Czech but he listens, restlessly petting Tyler’s hips and sides as he inches forward.

“Okay?” Jamie asks Tyler, who’s dropped to his elbows and is panting, ribs heaving.

Tyler doesn’t answer at first.

Jamie sits up and bends to get a look at his face. “Ty, need you to talk to me.”

Tyler licks his lips. His eyes are unfocused, and he moans as Jarda pushes in a little deeper.

“Stop,” Jamie says to Jarda, who groans and goes still.

“Too much?” he asks. His accent’s gotten thicker.

Jamie looks at Tyler. “Baby, focus. Do you need to stop?”

Tyler shakes his head. “No, please, I—” He rocks slightly, held in place by Jamie’s and Jarda’s hands. “F-fuck, Jamie, he’s so big—”

“We can do something else,” Jamie says.

“No, I want this,” Tyler says immediately.

Jarda meets Jamie’s eyes over Tyler’s body, a question in his. Jamie warms to him even more, and he nods.

“Go slow until I say.”

Jarda’s grin is wolfish and hungry and he nods. This time when he pushes forward, he doesn’t stop, pressing deeper in increments as Tyler twists and cries out, grabbing desperately at Jamie’s hands to steady himself.

“Look at you taking it,” Jamie whispers, awed. He strokes Tyler’s back, slick with sweat, as Jarda resettles his grip. “So beautiful, Ty. Doing so good.”

Tyler’s breathing is harsh and ragged. He shoves his face into Jamie’s chest, mouthing along the ridges of his abdomen almost absently, as if trying to distract himself. After a minute, he takes a deep breath and nods.

“Go,” Jamie tells Jarda.

That’s clearly what he was waiting for. Jarda catches hold of Tyler’s hips in an iron grip and starts fucking him, hard and unrelenting. He pulls out and drives back in, not giving Tyler a chance to adjust, slamming home so hard Tyler’s shoved forward with every thrust into Jamie’s chest.

Jamie catches and holds him, pinning Tyler’s arms and keeping him braced. Tyler writhes, breath hot and wet on Jamie’s skin as he pants, open-mouthed. Jamie wishes, distantly, that he could free one hand and touch himself, but it’s taking everything he’s got to keep Tyler in place.

Jarda hooks an arm around Tyler’s waist and sits back on his heels, letting Tyler’s weight impale him on his dick. His eyes are distant, tongue caught between his teeth as he chases his pleasure. Tyler’s head falls back against Jarda’s shoulder, and Jamie can’t resist sitting up, stripping off the condom, and taking him into his mouth.

Tyler makes a choked noise, jerking forward into Jamie’s mouth and back onto Jarda’s cock, shaking all over.

Like this, Jamie can get a hand on himself, so he does, working his shaft in steady strokes. It feels like no time at all before the orgasm is coiling deep in his gut, and it takes an almost inhuman effort to straighten, going to his knees.

Jarda’s still thrusting deep, rhythm unchanged, and Jamie spares a moment to be impressed by his stamina. He crowds close, leaning forward and wrapping his arm around Jarda’s neck to hold Tyler in place, immobile between them.

“Jamie, Jamie,” Tyler sobs, clutching at him with desperate hands. “Jamie please—”

“Are you close?” Jamie asks in his ear. He can feel how hard Tyler is, leaking steadily against both their bellies, and he reaches down, closing a hand around their shafts.

Tyler’s back arches and he nods frantically, bucking into Jamie’s grip.

Jamie meets Jarda’s eyes and Jarda nods too.

“Do it,” he growls.

Jamie knows what works for his lover.

“Now, Tyler,” he orders. A twist of his wrist on an upstroke and teeth set against his throat and Tyler’s gone, spilling over his fist with a broken moan. The slick wet heat is enough to topple Jamie over too, adding to the mess as pleasure shivers through him.

Jarda pushes them both backward onto the bed, braces above them. He thrusts deep once, twice, and then stills, shuddering. Tyler is sprawled across Jamie’s chest, utterly limp, and Jarda bends to kiss the shell of his ear.

“Tak sladké,” he whispers. “Jamie is a lucky man.”

Tyler snuffles against Jamie’s throat and Jamie kisses the top of his head. He’s sleepy, sated, and warm, and wants nothing more to doze off with Tyler in his arms, but they’re not alone, so he makes a massive effort and rolls Tyler to the side as Jarda slides off the bed, scoops up his clothes, and pads for the bathroom.

Jamie uses the wet wipes in his bag to clean them both up as water runs in the bathroom sink, and he’s got a pair of boxers on when Jarda emerges, fully dressed.

Jamie shifts his feet, suddenly awkward. What did one say in a situation like this?

Jarda’s eyes crease with amusement. “See you on the ice, Jamie,” he says. He glances at the bed, where Tyler’s curls are just visible. “He’s not the only lucky one.” He lets himself out of the room before Jamie can come up with a response and it clicks softly behind him.

“Come to bed,” Tyler calls, and Jamie goes to him.

“Was that okay?” he asks, snugging himself in tight behind Tyler’s warm body.

Tyler drapes an arm behind him, across Jamie’s hip, and hums. “Love you,” he slurs.

Jamie kisses the nape of his neck. “Love you too, baby,” he whispers. He’s smiling as he falls asleep.