Eighthoursintotheflight, I can't take it anymore.
Not the waiting. Not the planning. Not even the suspicious woman beside Asher who Marlee's been watching since we boarded.
It's him. Sitting there in his cramped economy seat, pretending to read a magazine, jaw tight with tension he's trying to hide. The way his fingers tap restlessly against his thigh. The way he keeps glancing toward the window like he can will the plane to move faster.
The way he looked at me in the terminal, when he thought no one was watching. Like he was memorizing my face. Like he wasn't sure he'd get another chance.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand.
Jagger glances up from his tablet. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom."
I don't go to the bathroom.
I go to Asher.
He looks up when I stop beside his row, surprise flickering across his face before he schools it into neutrality. The woman beside him is asleep, or pretending to be. Doesn't matter.
"Come with me," I say quietly.
"Why—"
"Now."
The hard edge in my voice must tell him I'm not fucking around. He unbuckles, slides past the sleeping woman, and follows me down the aisle toward the back of the plane.
The bathroom is tiny. Barely enough room for one person, let alone two men our size. But I pull him inside anyway, lock the door, and shove him against the wall.
"What are you—"
I kiss him before he can finish the question.
It's not gentle. Not soft. I pour everything I'm feeling into it, all the fear and want and desperate need that's been building since the briefing. Since Helena Cross's name landed like a bomb. Since I remembered what it felt like to be six years old and strapped to a table while a silver-haired woman watched me scream.
Asher kisses me back just as hard, his hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. The bathroom is so small that we're pressed together from chest to knee, no space between us, no room for anything except this.
"Jinx." He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "We can't—"
"We can." I reach between us, palm the front of his pants, feel him already half-hard. "I need this. I need you. Before we land, before we walk into another facility, before everything goes to shit again."
"There are two hundred people on this plane."
"And none of them are going to hear us if you keep your voice down." I squeeze his cock through the fabric, feel it twitch and thicken in my grip. "Unless you don't want to."
His eyes darken. His hips push into my hand.
"You know I want to."
"Then shut up and let me have you."
I drop to my knees.
The floor is cold and hard, the space so cramped that my back presses against the door. But I don't care. All I care about is getting his pants open, pulling his cock free, wrapping my hand around the thick length of him.
He's fully hard now, flushed and leaking, the head glistening with precum. I lean in and drag my tongue across the slit, taste salt and musk, feel him shudder above me.
"Fuck," he breathes.
