caresses.
“Diego?” Evan's heart was hammering with need, and now his chest went tight. “I want...” He swallowed. Why was he so fucking nervous? “Do you want to?”
Diego half-groaned, half laughed. “God.” But then, “You mean...”
“Please, Diego. Fuck me. I want you to.”
“Even if...”
“Yes. Just, please . . . “
He'd top Diego when he was ready. He could wait for that, for lots of things. But every nerve, every muscle, every blood vessel in his body was screaming for this, to feel Diego inside of him, to move with him, to milk his lover's next climax from him with his whole body.
“Ever done it before? With a girl, I mean? Like this?”
“No.”
“Here.” Evan lubed up Diego's cock with the cooking oil he'd nicked from supply, stealing the chance to enjoy the feel of that hard length slipping through his grip, slicking his fingertips over his contours. Fuck, he wished they could turn on the light, that he could look at Diego's cock as he touched him. Then he dribbled a puddle of the viscous fluid into Diego's palm, and guided his hand down, between them, down.
“Just get me slick first, here,” he guided one finger between his cheeks, slid it up and back over his hole, “then start with one finger.”
He hoped it wouldn't freak him, fingering his asshole. In some ways, he remembered, that had been stranger, more different, than fucking, the first time he'd been with a guy.
Oh god oh god, Diego's finger pressing, opening him, sliding inside. Evan sighed, groaned, pulled Diego closer. Kissed his cheek. He was scared to say anything. His want was so big, if he screwed it up, if it didn't happen...
“Am I doing it right?” Diego asked in a whisper.
“Fuck. Yes.”
“I'm not hurting you?'
“No, love. No.”
Love. The first. So good to say it, finally. After pretending not to for so long.
Diego pushed into him, slow and gentle, with a second finger, opening him wider, filling him fuller. God he wanted the rest, wanted it all. But wait. Wait. He'd let Diego take his time, do things at his own pace. No rush. Even the wanting, the waiting was so good. So fucking delicious.
“Can I? Now? I mean, do you want me to...”
Evan kissed him, caught his bottom lip between his lips, slid his tongue against Diego's tongue.
“Yes.”
“I can...like this, can't I?” Diego asked, leaning between Evan's legs, bringing his cock against him.
“Yes,” Evan whispered, struggling to keep his desperate need from his voice.
He felt Diego shivering, heard him panting, shallow and fast, as little by little, he sank into him. Wrapping his arms around Diego, pulling him closer, Evan breathed through this piercing, this filling. And then, slow, but coming on with a quivering need that rippled through his whole body, Diego started moving over him.
“God, love, you feel so good inside me,” Evan sighed, meaning it.
* * * *
He was having a damned hard time finding fault with anything, this morning. But the men stank of trouble. Baldwyn and Riggs looked about ready to piss themselves with fear, which with them could only mean they'd done something, and were scared shitless of getting caught. And Lott. Christ, that one gave him the feeling of worms wiggling over his skin, just looking at him. Nothing natural about a grin like that. Not now. Not in this place.
God fucking dammit, why had it taken him so long to notice?
“Kosinski!” Smith called out, but everything in him was already going cold. Cold and heavy. “Kosinski!” he hollered again, in a tone meant to sound like he was berating a truant child. Even to his own ear, though, he sounded scared.
Scanning the men's faces, he could have sworn Riggs went pale, and that Lott's grin got bigger. Then one of the others moved. Narrowing eyes. Sagging body. Then an urgent, combat-ready extension of arm and index finger.
And Vallar shouted, “Sir!”
Smith followed the trajectory of the gesture, and peered up into a fifth-floor window in
“Diego?” Evan's heart was hammering with need, and now his chest went tight. “I want...” He swallowed. Why was he so fucking nervous? “Do you want to?”
Diego half-groaned, half laughed. “God.” But then, “You mean...”
“Please, Diego. Fuck me. I want you to.”
“Even if...”
“Yes. Just, please . . . “
He'd top Diego when he was ready. He could wait for that, for lots of things. But every nerve, every muscle, every blood vessel in his body was screaming for this, to feel Diego inside of him, to move with him, to milk his lover's next climax from him with his whole body.
“Ever done it before? With a girl, I mean? Like this?”
“No.”
“Here.” Evan lubed up Diego's cock with the cooking oil he'd nicked from supply, stealing the chance to enjoy the feel of that hard length slipping through his grip, slicking his fingertips over his contours. Fuck, he wished they could turn on the light, that he could look at Diego's cock as he touched him. Then he dribbled a puddle of the viscous fluid into Diego's palm, and guided his hand down, between them, down.
“Just get me slick first, here,” he guided one finger between his cheeks, slid it up and back over his hole, “then start with one finger.”
He hoped it wouldn't freak him, fingering his asshole. In some ways, he remembered, that had been stranger, more different, than fucking, the first time he'd been with a guy.
Oh god oh god, Diego's finger pressing, opening him, sliding inside. Evan sighed, groaned, pulled Diego closer. Kissed his cheek. He was scared to say anything. His want was so big, if he screwed it up, if it didn't happen...
“Am I doing it right?” Diego asked in a whisper.
“Fuck. Yes.”
“I'm not hurting you?'
“No, love. No.”
Love. The first. So good to say it, finally. After pretending not to for so long.
Diego pushed into him, slow and gentle, with a second finger, opening him wider, filling him fuller. God he wanted the rest, wanted it all. But wait. Wait. He'd let Diego take his time, do things at his own pace. No rush. Even the wanting, the waiting was so good. So fucking delicious.
“Can I? Now? I mean, do you want me to...”
Evan kissed him, caught his bottom lip between his lips, slid his tongue against Diego's tongue.
“Yes.”
“I can...like this, can't I?” Diego asked, leaning between Evan's legs, bringing his cock against him.
“Yes,” Evan whispered, struggling to keep his desperate need from his voice.
He felt Diego shivering, heard him panting, shallow and fast, as little by little, he sank into him. Wrapping his arms around Diego, pulling him closer, Evan breathed through this piercing, this filling. And then, slow, but coming on with a quivering need that rippled through his whole body, Diego started moving over him.
“God, love, you feel so good inside me,” Evan sighed, meaning it.
* * * *
He was having a damned hard time finding fault with anything, this morning. But the men stank of trouble. Baldwyn and Riggs looked about ready to piss themselves with fear, which with them could only mean they'd done something, and were scared shitless of getting caught. And Lott. Christ, that one gave him the feeling of worms wiggling over his skin, just looking at him. Nothing natural about a grin like that. Not now. Not in this place.
God fucking dammit, why had it taken him so long to notice?
“Kosinski!” Smith called out, but everything in him was already going cold. Cold and heavy. “Kosinski!” he hollered again, in a tone meant to sound like he was berating a truant child. Even to his own ear, though, he sounded scared.
Scanning the men's faces, he could have sworn Riggs went pale, and that Lott's grin got bigger. Then one of the others moved. Narrowing eyes. Sagging body. Then an urgent, combat-ready extension of arm and index finger.
And Vallar shouted, “Sir!”
Smith followed the trajectory of the gesture, and peered up into a fifth-floor window in
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