An ache formed behind Linc’s ribs. Had anybody ever just shown an interest in Wyatt without an ulterior motive? Had anybody cared for him when he was sick or just hugged him for no reason? Even the simplest gesture seemed enormous to the boy. Linc had at least had his sister to look out for him, even with his lunatic mother and absentee father. Wyatt had grown up with nobody in his corner, and that knowledge ate at something inside Linc.
Once Wyatt’s hair was clean, Linc soaped him up, washing him carefully, his gaze snagging on the dozens of scars marring both his thighs. A sharp pain knifed through him as he imagined Wyatt taking a blade to himself in a desperate attempt to feel better. He ran his fingers over them, noting how Wyatt stiffened. Linc didn’t say anything. What was there to say? He placed a gentle kiss over each set of scars before rinsing Wyatt off with clinical efficiency and bundling him in one of the huge bath sheets Graciela replaced under the sink every other day. Linc didn’t bother getting him dressed since he was only putting him to bed, even if it was barely the afternoon. He pushed back the covers and gestured for Wyatt to get in.
Wyatt did as instructed without fuss, but then gazed up at Linc with those huge green eyes. “Are you staying in here with me?”
Linc slipped in beside him. Wyatt curved himself into Linc’s side like it was something they did every night, nestling his head against his shoulder and throwing one leg over Linc’s. Once again that weird pang hit him. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, but I don’t want to risk hurting you again. My nightmares are unpredictable.”
Wyatt ran his hand over Linc’s chest, his fingers combing through the hair dusted there. “I like when you hurt me though.”
Linc smiled but shook his head. “Not like that. I can’t risk it.”
Wyatt pouted. “But you’ll stay until I fall asleep?”
Linc kissed his forehead. “Yes, sweet boy.”
Wyatt was asleep almost instantly. Linc must have drifted off soon after because when he opened his eyes again, the sun was down, and the light of the full moon poured in through the windows, drenching the room in shades of gray. It was hot beneath the heavy comforter, leaving them both damp, but Linc made no effort to move, even with his arm trapped painfully beneath Wyatt’s head.
Wyatt had turned himself away from Linc, but his face tipped upward, caught in the moonlight. Linc couldn’t help but stare. Wyatt was beautiful anytime, but while he slept, the usual tension slipped from his face. His furrowed brow smoothed without his ever-present anxiety, his long lashes casting half-moons on his pale skin. He looked much younger in sleep, one hand beneath his face and the other curled around Linc’s forearm trapped beneath him like even in sleep he worried Linc would leave.
He should leave. He needed to get up and cook dinner, but he curled his body against Wyatt’s, his tongue tracing the shell of his ear, biting his earlobe as his free hand traced the curve of Wyatt’s satiny skin beneath the blankets, his knuckles sliding from his ribs to the groove of his hip and back again.
Wyatt gave a shuddery sigh, shifting himself closer, giving Linc more access to his naked, sweaty body. Linc traced biting kisses against Wyatt’s jaw, his hand sliding along Wyatt’s belly to wrap his palm around his semi-erect cock, stroking him at a glacial pace. Wyatt moaned low.
Linc had been with a lot of guys, but he’d never shared a bed, never stayed overnight. There was no time for relationships with weeks of training and deployments and missions. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. But this—having access to Wyatt’s body whenever he pleased… taking what he wanted, giving pleasure when he wanted—could become addictive. For the next five months, Wyatt belonged only to him, and Linc planned on taking advantage of every opportunity. He tightened his grip, twisting on the upstroke, swiping his thumb over the tip before sliding back down.
Wyatt whimpered, his hips pushing upward, working himself into Linc’s sweat-slick fist, chasing his pleasure even in sleep. Linc didn’t stop him. He licked and bit at Wyatt’s neck and throat, caught up in the salty tang of his skin, his own cock already at attention and gliding between the globes of Wyatt’s ass.
Wyatt’s hand suddenly tightened where he held Linc’s forearm, his breath tripping as he reached back for Linc’s hip. “Linc?” he whispered, turning his face toward him.
“Is that what you call me?” Linc rumbled against his ear.
“Daddy,” Wyatt moaned, pushing himself back against Linc’s cock before rocking himself forward into Linc’s hand. “Oh, fuck, please, Daddy.”
“Color?” Linc asked.
“Green, so green,” he panted.
Linc captured his mouth, fucking his tongue inside before biting gently at Wyatt’s lower lip. “You can come whenever you want, but you have to do the work,” Linc whispered against his mouth.
Linc stopped moving his hand, but Wyatt didn’t seem to notice, his fingers gripping Linc’s hip as he fucked himself into Linc’s tightened fist. Linc rocked his hips forward, matching Wyatt’s rhythm as he worked his length between Wyatt’s ass cheeks. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Linc muttered.
Wyatt made a half-bitten-off sound, his muscles flexing with every forward thrust, enclosing Linc’s cock in a constricted heat that had his balls tightening against his body. He drove himself against Wyatt almost as blindly as Wyatt fucked into Linc’s fist, tiny noises of pleasure falling from the boy’s lips as he chased his release. “Come on, sweet boy. Work for it. Take it.”
“Daddy,” Wyatt breathed, almost without thought. “I… want… Fuck, fuck.”
Wyatt never finished his sentence, just moaned low, his whole body trembling as his cum spilled over Linc’s hand. Linc worked the fluid over Wyatt’s cock, thrusting against him three more times before he buried his face in the boy’s throat with a hoarse shout, pleasure rolling along every nerve ending as his own release coated Wyatt’s ass and lower back.
When Linc could finally bring himself to move, he pressed his hand to Wyatt’s lips, letting the boy taste himself before wiping the rest on the sheet. He pushed the covers off, giving Wyatt room now that they were both sticky.Wyatt looked over at him and grinned. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Linc managed, still feeling winded and a little shaky.
“I thought you were going back to your room?”
Linc laughed. “It’s only”—he glanced at the clock beside Wyatt’s bed—“eight-thirty.”
Wyatt yawned hard enough to make his jaw pop. “I’m hungry.”
“Of course you are,” Linc said, shaking his head. “Did Graciela leave anything to eat?”
