by Kove, TT
‘I don’t care what Anna or your dad says. Really, I don’t. I just want to keep things like this.’ More kisses. ‘Even if they get married—or we do, for that matter—and relations get a bit muddled… I don’t care.’
Well, wasn’t that sweet? ‘Get on the bed, Kristian.’ I was done talking about feelings. It was time to get down to business.
He chuckled and dragged one hand down my side until he cupped my dick. Then he grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to bend forward slightly so our foreheads pressed together. ‘If I ever get sick, you’ll be the first to know. Right after my doctor.’ He stroked my dick once. Just that, once. As if that was enough. ‘I hope that goes for you too.’
‘It does,’ I promised. No matter how much I didn’t like talking feelings, illness was something else entirely. You told the people closest to you about that, no matter what. Or… I wouldn’t ever have told my dad unless I was dying, even before he turned into a major git at Christmas, but Dad and Kristian were two very different people. I lived with Kristian, we shared a life and a bed. He had a right to know. Dad didn’t. Anna certainly didn’t.
Kristian and Varg. Those were the people who meant the most to me. Those were the people who would know if there was something wrong. I might prefer to deal with shit on my own, in my own head, but you didn’t exclude your partner from something as life-threatening as cancer, that was for sure. My opinion of Jonathan wasn’t exactly better right now.
He was sick though and I felt for him. I wasn’t heartless, even if I’d been accused of it from girlfriends I’d had in the past. I just wasn’t very talkative or emotional. There was a difference. Quite a big one, actually.
‘Now will you get on the bed?’ I pushed Kristian playfully away, partways embarrassed we were talking about this, partways so turned on I needed this to move on to where I could actually get off.
He held his hands up, smiling widely. ‘Now I’ll get on the bed.’ So saying he pulled his jeans down, stepping out of them and leaving them in a puddle on the floor. He dropped his jumper and tee and boxers too and now I was suddenly the one who was overdressed.
Time to get to it. This we were good at.
Follow Varg & Jonathan in Arctic Heat
An excerpt from Arctic Heat 1: Northern Lights
Varg
The cold hit me like a bitch-slap to the face.
Not only that, but it was completely dark outside, as if it was the middle of the night. If I hadn’t just heard the pilot tell us the time when we landed, I would’ve thought I’d been on that plane a lot longer than four hours.
The cold air burned my nostrils and my breath made a cloud of white steam that travelled on the wind ahead of me.
I stopped once I was down on the tarmac, and I tilted my head to the side to regard the darkness all around me. I could barely see the water’s edge of the fjord, but nothing beyond it.
Ahead of me artificial lights lit up the path to the terminal building. The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, providing some light as well.
This was such a difference from the overcast light of Oslo I’d left only four hours ago.
I already hated it. And I wasn’t even out of the airport.
This looks promising.
Why would anyone want to live up here in the darkness? I could get depressed by less, but if this was what I had to endure every day, I wouldn’t be fit for living.
I needed light, and people, and noises around me.
This… This was horrible. So quiet, so dark, so bloody cold.
I shivered in my winter jacket and jeans. In Oslo I’d felt all warm and good, but now I was afraid my balls would freeze and fall off.
My brilliant idea to visit my best friend wasn’t so brilliant anymore.
With every step I took towards the terminal building, the more I regretted my current life choices.
My eyes burned as I stepped into the building, and I blinked to adjust them to the light. My surroundings slowly came into focus and I glanced around for Andreas but didn’t spot him anywhere.
Well then.
Andreas had invited me up to visit and he wasn’t even around to pick me up.
He could be waiting somewhere else in the airport though, I reminded myself. Then again, I’d never been to this wretched place before and he knew that so he should’ve been right there to greet me.
The luggage reclaim had already started as I ambled over to it. I instantly spotted my suitcase among the mass of boring ones thanks to the rainbow-coloured bands secured around it.
I hoisted it off the belt, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process because I’d brought so much stuff.
It had wheels, thankfully, so I didn’t have to carry it with me further into the airport. It all went perfectly once I wheeled it next to me.
Andreas was still nowhere to be seen.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
I plopped down on a chair and preceded to sulk. The flight had been right on time—no delays or anything, nor was it early. So why wasn’t Andreas here to pick me up?
If Andreas didn’t show up in the next five minutes, I was getting back on that damn plane. Back to Oslo, to where winter could actually be categorised as warm. Who would’ve thought so? Certainly not me.
Winter was horrible—yet now I longed back to my city and my life.
If there wasn’t a certain someone I wanted to get away from—and another certain someone I wanted to see again, I never would’ve set my foot on Svalbard.
‘Hey.’
I gasped and turned around—almost falling on my arse—as someone tapped on my shoulder.
A tall, lean, broad-shouldered bloke with dark hair that curled in the nape of his neck and around his ears, and cold, ice-blue eyes stood in front of me.
He was definitely not Andreas.
He wore a black and white snowsuit—it clung to his body rather nicely—and heavy boots.
Damn.
I swore my cock twitched in interest. I kept my face void of emotion, though, as I didn’t want him to see just how quickly I fell right in lust with him.
Why does this keep happening to me? It’s like I’m constantly walking around with a hard on.
Last time I’d fallen in lust with someone it hadn’t ended well, as partly evidenced by me even being up here on this damn island.
‘What do you want?’ It came out entirely too rude, but he’d startled me and he was handsome and I wanted to rip that snowsuit right off him.
His ice-blue eyes narrowed a fraction.
‘You’re Varg, right?’
Why does a complete stranger know my name?
‘You’re Kristian?’ He was the guy Andreas stayed with—and the one he worked for, so it made sense he’d come pick me up if Andreas was somehow unable to.
‘No.’
Now my eyes narrowed.
‘Then who are you?’
‘Name’s Jonathan.’ He did a mock-salute before he grabbed my suitcase. ‘I’m here to pick you up.’ With that he walked off.
Get it now.
About the Author
TT lives in Norway and mostly writes about queer characters living in Norway or the UK, and likes to tackle difficult subjects such as mental illness, past trauma, and self-injury.
TT prefers to write novellas and short stories, and likes happy endings for all characters—but she goes where it feels right for the individual story, so not every book has one.
To find free stories, or support me on Patreon to get exclusive shorts and WIPs before anyone else, please check out these links:
www.acpress.co.uk
www.patreon.com/acpress
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