Agamemnon Frost and the Crown of Towers by Kim Knox

mattress groaning. Mason winced. “They’ll hear.”
    “So?” Frost ran strong hands over Mason’s thighs, parting them, the hot slide of his palms, the digging tracks of his fingers pure torture. “Nestor knows. He doesn’t care.”
    Mason stilled, the sudden shock of their commander knowing about them chasing fear through him. “He said something?”
    “No. But he knows. Now.” Frost’s thumbs traced hard lines along the crease of his thighs and all thought of Nestor evaporated. “Can I please fuck you?”
    Mason let out a long slow breath. “Give me your hand.”
    Frost frowned, but did as he asked. Mason brought it to his mouth and licked Frost’s index and middle fingers. The tremor that ran through the man, the sudden darkening of Frost’s eyes, drove Mason to take his fingers, mirroring how Frost had almost devoured his dick.
    And he held Frost’s gaze. Watching his lover, enjoying the bite of his fingers into his thigh as he lost a portion of the steely control that had held him since they began. He wanted to see his effect, know that the wildness thrumming through his own flesh was there with Frost too. And it was. Sweat touched his upper lip now, darkened his hairline. The familiar exotic aromas of sandalwood and vanilla had deepened, offering a hint of Frost’s own warm scent.
    Mason gave the fingers a final lick, and Frost withdrew his hand to tease his wet fingers under Mason’s balls. His devilish smile would have graced a copy of the News . And he knew it. He drew a line, closer and closer until the anticipation was almost an agony.
    “Stroke yourself.” Frost’s hard command jerked his hand down as his lover eased a finger inside him. The ignition of heat chased up his spine and Mason bit his lip to hold back a cry. Frost curled and stretched him, adding a second finger.
    Mason gripped his dick, denying himself the boneless ecstasy that could all too easily overwhelm him. “Frost. Enough control. Fuck me.”
    “Lick.” Frost offered his other hand and Mason swiped his tongue from the base of his palm to the finger tips. He grinned as Frost swore softly. “Knees up to your chest.”
    A hard heartbeat later, as Mason’s pulse pounded, Frost’s dick pushed at his hole. Mason fought to breathe at the agonisingly slow stroke of Frost into his body. Every nerve flared. His chest tightened. And his lover watched him, his bright eyes fevered, the hand that held Mason’s calf biting, the muscles in his arms shaking.
    “Sweet...fuck.” Frost closed his eyes, his mouth parted and the sheen of sweat coating his skin. Mason doubted he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight. “Almost...”
    Frost groaned as his hips pushed hard up against him. Mason fought to breathe through the incredible fullness. The utter joy of finally, finally having Frost as his lover was a source of pleasure and of pain. His. For the night. Just his.
    Frost leaned forward, his strong hands effortless in lifting his body, and took a kiss from Mason’s mouth.
    The light of the lamp edged his face in gold, but his eyes were shadowed. “This...” He kissed him again, the electric touch of their skin and the aching fullness wrapping around Mason. “That we had more time.”
    Mason brushed a loose lock of hair from his lover’s face, his heart a pained stone in his chest. He wanted to tell him. Share that he loved him, but the words choked in his throat. “We’ll make the most of now.”
    Frost kissed him, his tongue finding his mouth, a fierce tasting...as he pulled his hips back. Mason almost mewled, Frost swallowing the strangled sound. He slammed back and stars danced across Mason’s eyes.
    “I’ll fuck you like I’ve ached to fuck you.” Frost leaned over him, their bodies tight and tangled, his hands fisting the bed sheet as he sank his teeth into Mason’s bottom lip. “Because we can.”
    Mason took his mouth, one hand in Frost’s hair, the other on his dick, and met every fierce thrust of Frost into his