“You feel so good. Don’t hold back. Come all over my cock. Fill her up.”
Jay’s body stills and jerks as he breathes rapidly, grunting like an animal. But I’m no better. I can’t hold back either as I match his jerky movements and latch on to Cora’s shoulder like a bite stick, spilling everything into her pussy.
Finally, all three of us go still. We’re nothing more than slick bodies as we try to catch our breath. I manage to lift my head to hers as she twists her neck to kiss me. Deeply. Passionately. Her mouth, like a promise and a prayer, and all I can think is how much I adore this woman. How simply taking care of her makes me feel whole.
Both of them. My prince and my princess. Do either of them need me to take care of them? No. But they allow me to, and that makes me feel valued.
Trusted.
Loved.
Chosen.
Jay slowly slides out and moves to our side, then connects to our mouths, tangling himself in our kiss. Our silent promise.
I know you love us, Cora.
As much as it physically pains me not to tell her, it can’t be said tonight.
Our lips linger as we shift and settle. I leave the two of them making out and petting each other while I gather my aftercare items and head back to the bed. I clean them up, then myself, kissing along their legs and stomachs. Necks. Lips. Chests. Praising them for their obedience and trust.
After I give Cora some aspirin, we all gulp down water like it’s air.
When we finally get settled in for sleep, Jay and I flank Cora like a couple of koala bears scaling a tree, and George snuggles into her usual spot behind my knees.The Officeplays quietly on Jay’s laptop at the edge of the bed as our bodies wind down from our fantastic highs.
It’s here, while Cora drifts off to sleep, that Jay and I wait once again, to whisper into her hair our truest words. The words she’s not ready to hear, but the words we can’t not tell her.
“We love you, Cora.”
“We love you, sweetheart.”
Chapter 13
Homecoming
Marco
Four Years Ago
Theflightbacktothe States was rough. I couldn’t sleep a wink and I barely slept last night on base. Coming home is always hard. Things, people, places all change. Relationships develop and disintegrate, babies are born and people die while you’re gone.
Death.
It feels like that’s all I was a part of while I was away. Avoiding it. Causing it. My job in Wheeled Vehicle Repairs keeps me from most of the action, but this last deployment was so fucked up. I saw more action than my first three years combined.
Witnessing death and fighting it—that’s usually all I can think about when I return. But this time, I feel something new: excitement. It’s bizarre to feel like your soul is leadened with death, and yet you’re excited to see your best friend. Beyond excited, really. I don’t know what the name of that feeling is, but Iknowseeing him will make me feel better.
So when we’re all woken up before the ass crack of dawn to prepare for our departure into civilian life and go through the rigamarole of formations and ceremony, I’m already awake and raring to go. Thankfully, all this will be over by late morning.
As I stand in formation with my unit—a smaller unit than what we left with—I listen to the names read of who didn’t make it home with us. I might not be close with my unit, and I understand that’s my fault, but it doesn’t hurt any less to hear their names and remember their stories, their laughter, their last days and moments.
I keep my eyes trained forward, though my focus is with my fallen brothers. I’m lost to their memory, as our commanding officer officially releases us. The only reason I know he has, is because one second, I’m standing ramrod straight, mind elsewhere, and the next, my best friend is slamming into me, wrapping his arms around and knocking the wind out of my body.
On reflex, I throw my arms around him and hold tight. Tears well in my eyes as I embrace him for far longer than I anticipate. This hug is nothing like the last one we shared when I left for deployment. That was a short bro hug. This, however, is a deep, powerful embrace that shakes the very foundation I’ve always known. I’ve never hugged another man like this. Not my father, not my so-called friends. It’s like he can sense I need this, even though I didn’t know I did.
I might be on home soil now, which does give me a mild sense of home, but hugging Jay, it’s like I can finally breathe, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, I’m truly home.
Jay holds me a little longer allowing me to collect myself as best I can. When we break apart, the cold January air whirls between us as we both look in opposite directions and wipe the remnants of tears from our faces.
