once more. Yes. Eclipsed. Flynn had said he was big, but maybe it wasnât enough. Safely sheathed and drenched in lube, straining at Flynnâs entrance, Tom slipped a hand beneath him. Said, as gently as he could, âYouâre not hard.â
Flynn shivered. He rubbed his forehead on his folded arms. âAre youâ¦are you surprised, after the wring-out you gave me before? I will be, once youâre inside me. Come on. Please.â
Carefully Tom explored his softened shaft. He uncapped the lubricant once more and eased back, sliding two fingers down between his buttocks. Finding and circling his hole. He heard Flynn suck a breath. âThat okay?â
âMm. God, yes. Better than.â Flynn moaned, arched his back. Drew his legs up to accommodate the touch, and Tom pushed the caress forward, slipping one slick fingertip inside, exerting gentle pressure just inside the rim. âYes. Donât stop that. Iâm just⦠Iâll be better in a minute.â Suddenly he lifted his head and glanced back at Tom over his shoulder, his smile nervous, hard to read. âYouâre different, you know. When you touch me, when you look at meâ¦you make the world seem different. Less of a battlefield.â
Tom didnât know what to say. His throat was closing. âGood,â he whispered, for want of anything better, and brought a second fingertip to bear, gingerly stretching.
Flynn jumped. It was a tiny movement, repressed a fraction of a second too late. Tom read it instantlyâpain, too sharp to hide. Immediately, involuntarily, his touch became medical. âFlynn, for Godâs sake. Youâre hurt down here. Youâre swollen.â Not waiting for Flynn to move or speak, he sat up, reached over him and switched on the bedside light. âLet me see.â
âTom⦠What the fuck?â Flynn scrambled backward, raising a hand to shield his eyes. The light was stark. Tom read away insomniac nights here, propped against the headboard where Flynn was now hopelessly trying to retreat. Trying, at the same time, to pull up a sheet, because both of them knew that Tom, who had picked up a tiny swell of muscle in the dark, was not about to miss the bruises with which he was painted from stomach to groin. Couldnât pretend to, even if he wanted. âShit,â Flynn groaned, drawing his knees up to his chest. âCouldnât you have just left well alone?â
Tom would have liked to. Shock was taking care of his erection, but the sudden shut-off from an arousal so massive and sweet was sending nausea through him, and a cold dull ache. âSure,â he said unsteadily, coming to kneel beside Flynn. He tugged off the condom, abruptly sickened by it. âIf anything had been well, Iâd have left it. Jesus, Flynn.â He ran a bewildered hand into his hair. âIf youâre in an abusive relationship, thereâs people who can help you. Iâll help you.â
Flynn broke into laughter. It was the first unpleasant sound that Tom had heard from himâbitter, full of pain. âWho the fuck are youâOprah bloody Winfrey?â He seized a corner of the rumpled bedspread and pulled it over his thighs, as if his own lax cock suddenly shamed him. âThe Navy deals with that kind of shit in-house, I promise. And if I amâwhich Iâm notâyouâd better believe, it goes two ways. Iâm not a hurt lamb, Tom. I ask for it. I fucking beg.â
Tom sat back on his heels. He transfixed Flynn on one dark look. âWell,â he said stonily. âThe difference with me, sunbeam, is that youâre not gonna get it.â
He dragged out blankets from the linen basket, a cotton sheet. Picked up a pillow from the bed and did not quite throw it at him. Flynn, not meeting his eyes, took the things from him and made for the stairs. Tom turned his back on him.
He got almost as far as the bed before his brow contracted, and he
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