Liam bit at Oliver’s collarbone, his jaw, his mouth, kissing him with an intensity that left his lips tingling. Oliver sobbed out a breath, writhing against Liam’s impossibly tight grip, wanting to come and knowing there was only one way he’d get to.
He dug his fingers into Liam’s shoulders, holding on when all he wanted to do was let go—so he did. “Liam!”
The sound of Liam’s name falling between them made the other man’s hips stutter as he lost his rhythm. Liam swore, hazel eyes bright in his face as he let go of Oliver’s cock. The sudden release was too much, and Oliver came hard, crying out as his entire body shook with it. Liam fucked him through it, watching him come with wide eyes before he gave in to his own needs.
Oliver lay there in a daze, feeling punch-drunk from coming so hard he still had spots at the edge of his vision. Every drag of Liam’s cock against his oversensitive prostate made him whimper, and when Liam finally came, Oliver shuddered through it.
Liam collapsed on top of him, seeking out his mouth for a kiss that was far gentler than all the others they’d shared that night. Oliver’s muscles ached from being thoroughly fucked into the mattress, but he didn’t care. Liam kissed him with a tenderness that should’ve been a warning for Oliver to put a stop to this whole night, but he didn’t. After a moment, Liam pulled out, and the emptiness he left behind made Oliver want to protest.
“I’ll make you a fry-up in the morning. You can make me that cuppa,” Liam murmured against his lips before moving to lie beside him, propped up on one elbow.
Oliver hissed softly when Liam sank a finger inside his hole, playing with the mess he’d made, the soft, satisfied smile on his face something Oliver couldn’t help but drag his fingertips over. He knew better than to accept a promise from Liam, but he did so anyway.
“All right.”
Liam guided them under the duvet, holding him close, and Oliver let him. He fell asleep listening to Liam’s heartbeat.
When Oliver awoke in the morning, he was alone, the sheets beside him cool. He ran a hand over the empty side of the bed, mouth twisting as he chastised himself. “Bloody fool, you were.”
It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but Liam could always break him in the worst ways without even trying.
Oliver only had himself to blame.
13
Taste of Bitter and Blood
Liam wouldn’t have leftOliver’s bed for anything short of a national emergency, which was precisely what happened the morning after the attack on Ascot.
The chime of his comms breaking through his sleep roused Liam in an unfamiliar room, with the familiar weight of someone sharing a bed with him. Memory returned hard and fast, and Liam didn’t fight the smile that came to his face even as his comms continued to buzz insistently in his ears. Some days embedded nanotech communication was a pain in the arse when you couldn’t turn it off.
Oliver’s breathing was soft and even in the dark bedroom, and Liam wanted so badly to stay beneath the duvet with the sleeping man. But duty called, and he’d never ignored its summons in his entire life. Sliding out from beneath Oliver and the blankets, Liam left the bedroom for the hallway, snagging his discarded trousers and underwear on his way out.
“Yes?” Liam asked in a low voice once he was far enough away from the bedroom he wouldn’t wake Oliver.
“We have confirmation the Reborn IRA was targeting the royal family at Ascot,” Chapman informed him, getting straight to the point.
Liam froze in the middle of pulling on his trousers, heart beating a little faster in his chest. “Are you sure?”
“We pried permission out of the courts to employ a telepath and read Finn’s mind. We’re sending teams out to scout the locations we found in his thoughts.”
“If Murphy is smart, he’d clear out any place Finn had access to or knew about.”
“I know. We still need to clear the locations. They’re all within Greater London, and some in Northern Ireland. I want you at headquarters for a briefing in thirty minutes.”
Liam closed his eyes, mouthingfuckrather than saying the word out loud so Chapman wouldn’t hear. “Yes, sir.”
“We’re increasing security around the royal family.”
Liam’s stomach sank somewhere around his feet. “Are you benching me?”
“It hasn’t yet been decided.”
Liam would bet onyesbefore anything else. He dragged a hand over his face, mouth twisting. “I’m on my way.”
Liam retreated to the bedroom, coming to a stop at the end of the bed. In the darkness, he could barely make out Oliver’s form in the bed, still asleep, but Liam remembered every touch they’d shared last night, every kiss, the way Oliver had looked sowreckedwhen he cried out Liam’s name. He swallowed hard.
He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he couldn’t stay.
