His father’s history of wrong decisions was a major reason why Nic strived so hard to make the right ones, even if they were the opposite of what he wanted. Case in point, avoiding anything too serious, like cohabitation, with the man on the other end of the couch. If Nic had his way, he’d happily spend every day and night in this house with Cam, preferably in his bed.
But he never wanted to go the way of his father or repeat the mistakes of his own past. He’d thought he’d been making the right decision decades ago—the one his heart had demanded—but the ensuing mess had jeopardized more than one person’s future. Until he’d made the right call and broken his heart in the process. Since then, Nic had kept dalliances casual, never wanting to hurt someone else by making the wrong decision.
Then Special Agent Cameron Byrne had walked into his life, and his heart had begun making demands again. If Nic made the wrong call, if he trusted the wrong person, or if he trusted his single-minded heart, both their lives could be in danger.
“I don’t think it’s the wrong decision to trust AD Moore,” Cam said, as if he could hear his thoughts. “El’s been nothing but upstanding since I transferred out here. Even after I stole from him.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Nic appreciated his attempt to lighten the nosediving mood.
“Let’s see what Lauren turns up. If he’s clean, we’ll consider it.”
“I can live with that,” Cam said with a satisfied smile.
That turned wicked on a dime.
Levering up, Cam knee-walked to Nic’s end of the couch and threw a leg over his lap, straddling him. “Now, I need to know if there’s something—someone—else you can live with?” With the both of them sans boxers under their sweats, Nic because he was out of clean clothes and Cam because he just liked going commando, the instant warmth of Cam’s dick against his own through the thin cotton distracted Nic. For a second. Before the implication of Cam’s words cut through the flare of lust.
He tried to scoot away, but Cam caged him in, hands braced on either side of his shoulders in the cushion behind him.
“Boston,” he warned.
“Just for now, until you’re cleared to move back into your unit. I need to know you’re safe, and right now, you’re safest here with me.”
Nic’s objection was on the tip of his tongue—that his presence here wasn’t safe for Cam at all, a major reason he’d run in the first place—but then Cam rolled his hips and the fog of lust clouded his better sense again. “Playing dirty,” he growled.
“I’ll show you dirty.” Cam lifted a hand out of the cushion, spit in his palm, and without any posturing or pretense, without foreplay or teasing, went straight for Nic’s waistband and wrestled free his hardening cock.
Nic gasped, hips rocking forward. “Dirty’s right.”
It got dirtier when Cam yanked out his own cock and clasped them both in his spit-slick palm, hot and tight. He stroked and listed forward, forehead resting against Nic’s.
Mouths close, Nic claimed the lips and tongue he’d been deprived full ravaging of earlier. Cam countered, fighting to lick every dark corner of Nic’s mouth.
“Dirty and desperate,” Cam breathed, the words puffed against Nic’s lips.
Scorching to his ears. “A month with nothing but my own hand and dick, after four with this gorgeous one here.” He twisted his hand on the down stroke, and the blaze burned hotter.
Unable to hold his head up any longer, Nic let it fall back on the couch cushions. He could hold something else up, though. He added his hand to Cam’s around them, Cam’s spit and their precome making it easy to stroke hard and fast. Judging by Cam’s pitching hips and his teeth sinking into the tendon of Nic’s neck, it was just the kind of dirty he had in mind.
“Missed you,” escaped among the fuck yeahs, fuck mes, and harders. Nic was just as desperate, just as tired of solo jack-offs and contorting himself in showers. So unfulfilling when he had this waiting for him here at?—
Nic yanked the wheel of his thoughts off that path, veering off-road instead, tumbling in sensation. Moaning, he threaded his fingers through Cam’s hair and held that delectable mouth against his skin as he thrust up into their grip, harder and faster still.
Driving them to finish at record pace.
Apart for too long, the time to climax was too short, a desperate race to their finish. But the perfect dirtiness of their come splattering them together was the most fulfilled Nic had been in months.
He couldn’t fathom this decision being wrong.
Cam was still sprawled across Nic, reveling in his favorite hard body back beneath him, when the rumbling under his ear shook him out of his haze.
Sitting up, he laughed as Nic half woke himself on another snore, struggling to lift his head and open his eyes.
“Sleepyhead,” Cam teased as he yanked Nic’s tee and then his own the rest of the way off and tossed them onto the floor. He dragged a hand through their come and spread it over Nic’s tattooed torso on full display. Over the rainbow frog and trident, the SEAL mottos and emblems, his teammates’ names, the kill count Nic worked so hard to atone for every day. Dirty and beautiful. The most beautiful man he’d ever known. “Maybe I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”
Nic bounced his knees, toppling Cam back into him. “Worth it.” They indulged in a lazy kiss that lasted until a cautious meow preceded an oomph at the other end of the couch. “Fuckin’ Bird,” Nic grumbled.
Chuckling, Cam pushed upright, waved the cat off, and wiped his messy hand on his sweats. “We should clean up.”
“Times like these,” Nic said, chin lolling on his chest, “I feel the ten-year age difference.”
