The slow grind was satisfying. It egged that summer storm on until a light rain began. First in his toes, a swirling mess of pleasure and warmth that occasionally surged. Spikes of pleasure so intense Blake moaned, his head falling back as he waited for the next one.
But he wanted more. He licked into Gabriel’s mouth. Tangled their tongues and tasted the remnants of canned baked beans and warm soda.
“Make me feel good, Gabriel.”
And Gabriel did.
He pressed his feet to the mattress and fucked up into him. Hard, deep thrusts. Blake felt like he was going to choke on it. Tears beaded on his lashes, and he let them fall as he tried to hold on. Tried to ride the pleasure that he knew would swallow him whole.
Fingers dug into Blake’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart. It was like it let him go deeper. He slammed home, and Blake screamed as he came. Spots exploded behind his eyes as he spasmed, falling into Gabriel’s arms as he soaked his chest.
Gabriel caught him. Held him tenderly as he brutally fucked him through the aftershocks. Wrung him dry. Thrust until Blake’s arms were limp, his legs shook, and the tears and cum mixed on Gabriel’s chest. Until he finally came, deep as he could go.
He didn’t pull out. Blake didn’t want him to. He curled up on Gabriel’s chest, a sticky mess. Gabriel stroked his back, murmuredI love yousagainst his crown.
Blake closed his eyes. With every whispered syllable, he clung tighter. Breathed in Gabriel’s scent. Maybe if he held on tight enough, they wouldn’t be parted.
Not by dawn.
Not by death.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Morning came between one blink and the next. Blake didn’t think he slept, but time was strange in their dim little motel room. They dressed in silence. He wished Gabriel would break the tension. Make some kind of sexual innuendo or come up behind him and kiss his neck. Maybe pull his hair a little. Anything to pretend like everything was fine. That this was just another day.
But Blake had asked for the truth, and Gabriel had always given it to him.
The rest of the motel felt the same as they loaded up into the working trucks and set off for the museum. That was what Gabriel was calling their main rendezvous point. The place they’d begin the mission—Rally Point Zero.
From the museum, they would split off. Most of the group would go home. They’d only come to wish them well, or maybe to get one last look.
Alvarez was leading the Ground Team. That’s what he was calling it, anyway. Blake preferredBait Team,but that wasn’t good for morale. Ground Team had the non-enviable task of getting the Off Former’s attention. They had two trucks andgrenades, Molotov cocktails, and some homemade shrapnel bombs they’d set off like a dinner bell.
Team Choo-Choo was Tommy, Judd, and Gabriel. Their job was to set the Metro substation to spark. They’d spent the weeks leading up to it setting up, getting everything ready so they could just flip the switch. Blake was sure it wasn’t that easy, but that was the gist of it.
Then there was Blake. He and Phin were Team Chicken Flipping.
Now he was standing under the rolling door of the museum, looking out over rolling fields that couldn’t decide if they wanted to turn green just yet. Perhaps he should consult the groundhog. How many more weeks of winter?
Groundhog was probably vaporized, anyway.
He reached into his pocket and felt the two sixty-ml syringes with fourteen-gauge needles firmly attached. Blake had never used a needle that big, but now he worried they were too small. Would it take too long to inject the full amount of piss-colored methamphetamine into Queen Dolly?
Running his thumb over the plunger, he picked at the striations in the plastic. He’d felt it a thousand times in a thousand different ways. Going seventy MPH down the highway with a seizing patient on his stretcher? Sure. A combative diabetic trying to take his head off? Just another day. But this?
This was alien bullshit.
Taking a breath, he looked over his shoulder to see Victoria and Judd by the Huey. Their heads were together; hands tangled between them. It was a private moment, and Blake turned back to the motley group of people scattered across the lawn.
Alvarez and Beaumont were standing beside the rusted-out Dodge dually. They had a map spread out over the hood, going over last-minute coordinates and a planned attack. Tyler and Zoe were with them, looking far too calm for the situation.
Irving wasn’t here. When asked, he’d simply raised a brow. “Would my presence aid the mission?”
Dick.
Phin, Tommy, and Gabriel were speaking with Emily and her parents. They’d come with Sara, who insisted on seeing everyone off. Sara kept swiping at her eyes, cheeks puffed out. Judd’s thick, ugly russet colored scarf was wrapped around the girl’s neck. He’d told her she could keep it warm for him until he came back.
