“You want I should stop?” Brady ground out, although he’d moved both hands to Eric’s chest and was thumbing Eric’s nipples, his hands rough enough to taunt.
“No,” Eric retorted, his breath coming out on a little groan of his own. “I want you to call me by my name.”
“Charlie,” Brady whispered, bearing Eric backward, down the narrow hall toward the bedchamber in the rear. Their clothes came off in a careful hurry—careful because the confines of the camper didn’t allow for their hands or elbows to stray far fromtheir bodies, but in a hurry because, oh God, Eric needed to feel Brady’s handseverywhere. His upper arms, against his ribs, palming his inner thighs.
He found himself splayed on his own bed, naked, while Brady touched him, the backs of his knees, the tenderness of his ankles. While Brady gently stroked his cock with a deliberate drag of his tongue.
“More,” Eric begged, and at his most honest, he couldn’t say what turned him on more. The special care, the trust he had that Brady wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t kill him in his sleep if he dropped his guard, or the thought that Brady knew who he was, knew his name, and touched him anyway.
And Brady didn’t stint on the touching. Eric, who was as cool in bed as he was on an op, found himself knotting his fingers in Brady’s slightly shaggy hair and begging,begging, for him to open his mouth, to take Eric’s cock in, and when Brady answered him, took him to the root, he let out a cry that might have been a sob and spread his legs.
And realized that never—never—in an active sex life of fucking assassins and enforcers, had he ever made himself that vulnerable before.
He tried to clench his knees together, but Brady was between them, servicing his weeping erection with such consummate, deliberate care that Eric was torn between sobbing and screaming. He couldn’t stop Brady, didn’twantto stop him, but he could… could….
“I’ve never…,” he gasped. “But please.”
Brady pulled his mouth slowly off Eric’s cock and replaced it with a strong grip. “Lubricant,” he mumbled. “Lots of lubricant.”
Eric reached under his pillow, and Brady was ready for the handoff. There was a little bit of fumbling before Brady engulfed his erection with his mouth again, and Eric was so immersed inthe wonder of that, he barely felt one slick finger penetrating, exploring…
Stretching.
But his body knew. His erogenous zones knew. Because Eric would have said he’d pursued sexual debauchery to the ends of the earth, but what he thought he understood had suddenly become a blazing, technicolor revelation for every part of his body.
Bottoming—who knew?
He hadn’t. He’d never trusted anybody enough to—oh God! Two fingers! He almost swooned, but that would have left him unconscious.
“Please?” he whispered. “Brady, please?”
Brady’s body covered his own, and he wrapped his thighs around Brady’s slim hips. There was the hand at his entrance, guiding Brady’s cock, and… ah!
Submission roared through his bloodstream, and he relaxed and pushed forward as Brady thrust, his body stretching on its own, blooming around Brady’s, welcoming him fully in until he was seated.
For a shuddery, moonlit moment, they gazed at each other, and Brady gave him a sweet, happy smile before kissing him briefly. “We okay, Charlie?”
Eric closed his eyes, keeping the moment, Brady himself, tight inside. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Move.”
Brady did, the eternal rhythm taking them both over, possessing them both, until Eric, head thrown back, spine arched, allowed the lightning of orgasm to course through him. He cried out and Brady gasped, and the thunderstrike made gods of them before it annihilated them both, leaving sweating, panting, naked lovers in its wake.
Brady collapsed against him, and Eric moaned softly, come sliding between them, between his thighs, slipping from his ass, and he felt bathed in it, saturated, reborn.
“Did I hurt you?” Brady asked in concern, and Eric pushed the hair back from his brow and kissed him, unable to answer any other way.
Did I hurt you?
No, you taught me what sex was all about.
Did I hurt you?
You broke me, and you don’t even know it yet, but it’s coming. If I know anything, it’s coming.
Did I hurt you?
You ripped out my heart by calling me by the name I was born with.
Did I hurt you?
