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Even and Isak can't stop kissing, they have to make use of every little second of the small time they have together. They are still high from the intense experience. It gets better and better every single time.
This time they haven't even bothered to take off their upper clothes. Their trousers hang loosely around their ankles, and they have to physically hold each other up not to stumble and fall. To avoid making suspicious noices. They can't get caught.
They are getting good at it. Amazingly good, actually. Good at doing it quickly (even though that part goes automatically, they are desperate for each other, and these secret encounters are so rare and so so precious), without a sound (using their hands to cover each other's mouths, burying their faces in a pillow or a jacket or anything else available, biting into their arms), releasing all the built up passion as efficiently as possible (way too seldom, never planned), and at disturbingly challenging places (at the beach in broad daylight surrounded by families - including their own wives and kids; at a bathroom in a train - and several other bathrooms; between two conveniently placed trees; in the crowd on a concert; and at lots of other places at work conferences and when they meet through mutual friends. They have lost count. But unfortunately rarely in an actual bed).
Now they are pressed against each other in the closet in a friend's bedroom. It's actually the first time they have done it here. The first time they have met right here.
They have been doing this thing for such a long time now, they know each other so well, that they don't have to plan anything anymore. They just know when they see each other. One look and their pupils fill their whole eyes. Little signals. Soundless communication through the room. Fingers that touch as they pass each other when Isak is grabbing a new beer. Even sighing quietly when Isak playfully raises one of his eyebrows from the other side of the livingroom. Isak's adam's apple bobbing up and down, and Even knowing why he swallows. What he's waiting for. They both know when the time is right. They move in sync, peeking around, nod to each other when they have decided, one of them leading the other imperceptebly. They have developed a routine. When they think too much about that fact, it sounds sick. So they don't think. They're addicted.
Even breaks away from the kiss, sighs and holds Isak as tight as possible. Their chests raise and sink completely synchronised. They breathe heavily. Even can feel tears behind his eyes. The warm light from the bedside lamp pushes through the crack in the closet door. Even forces himself not to think about Isak and him in a master bed, next to each other, for the rest of their lives. They have each other in these short moments. Nothing more. They met too late.
"I love you", Isak whispers, and he kisses Even tenderly on his earlobe. Even gets shivers down his spine, and the tears starts to fall down his cheeks, down on Isak's neck. He knows that Isak notices. He knows that Isak won't mention it. "I love you, too", he answers, and twirls one of Isak's hairlocks between his fingers.
They can't keep doing this.
They will never stop.