Page 69 of Under Cover
And then Crosby slid down his body, heedless of the spatter of semen across his abdomen, hitting his chest. It smeared between the two of them before Garcia felt Crosby’s mouth on his still-dripping cock, and it occurred to him in a very dim way, past the shuddering of the orgasm that was fading and over the whispers of the new one that was building, that this interlude wasfarfrom over.
“DAMN,” CROSBYbreathed, falling onto the pillow next to where Garcia fought for breath. “You good?”
Garcia’s asshole ached, and he was covered in a wash of come—on, in, or gushing from all orifices. Round two had been a fumbling sixty-nine, and Garcia had barely time to wipe Crosby’s cock down before it was in his throat.
Round three had been facedown, because his arms and legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He was pretty sure he had bite marks down his back, across his chest, on his thighs, on his neck… and his ass.
“Great,” he mumbled. “Destroyed. Wrecked. All same. Jesus, Cowboy.”
Crosby gave a rough chuckle and kissed Garcia’s bare shoulder tenderly. “Sorry. I was….”
Garcia turned his head in time to see Crosby bite his lower lip. “Driven,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb along it.
“Yeah. I… I needed as much as I could get.” He kissed Garcia’s shoulder again. “I hope it was okay.”
Garcia nodded. “Yeah. Hearts and flowers are nice, but sometimes….” He waggled his eyebrows, but Crosby didn’t laugh.
“I am afraid,” he said softly, “that I’ll get the hearts and flowers sanded out of me. These people. God, Calix. This world—I….” He shook his head and held out his hand, scooting backward like he was going to roll out of bed.
Garcia wouldn’t let him, grabbing his hand, pulling himself toward Crosby’s heavily muscled chest and making sure they were eye-to-eye.
“I’ve seen this world,” he said worriedly. “Ididgo undercover in ATF. And it’s… it’s bad. And the worst thing about it is that people assume that one hit makes someone the devil. But it’s not like that. It’s that the person they’re supposed to be is always so clear. And sometimes that person’s an asshole and the drugs sand away the clown mask, but most of the time, they’re just….”
“People,” Crosby said, proving he got it. “Just people. They… they didn’t see their lives turning out like this, that’s all.”
Garcia was going to say something light, something to make Crosby feel better, but it stuck in his throat.
Crosby—for all his talk about being a “meatloaf”—wasn’t near stupid.
“You didn’t see your life here either,” Crosby whispered. With a shaky breath, he rolled out of bed and started fishing for his boxers under the covers. “I’m sorry. I… we can meet somewhere else next time. I can move my stuff out—”
“No!” Garcia bit out, not even conscious of moving but suddenly right there next to Crosby, standing naked in the unheated house. “Stop! Cowboy, fuckin’stop!”
Crosby stopped moving, but he kept his face averted, probably so Garcia couldn’t see the hurt there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, eyes at the wrecked bed. “You didn’t sign on for this, for me in undercover. You probably want another partner so you can start living your life—ouch!”
Garcia wasn’t aware he was going to slap Crosby’s face until his hand made contact.
“Thehell,Garcia!” Crosby was staring at him in pain and confusion, rubbing his cheek.
“Don’t you fuckingdare!” Garcia snarled. “You think you haven’t made promises to me, Judson Crosby, you think again!”
“But that was when I was going to be here!” Crosby retorted. “Not when I was gonna be out in the wind, with McEnany just itching for a reason to off me or feed me to the sharks. You know that’s where it’s going, right? As soon as I’m not useful, he tells his higher-ups, they come gunning for me to shut me up?”
“Then we go into WITSEC together,” Garcia snapped, replacing Crosby’s hand with his own. “But you don’t back out. Not now. Not when….God,Crosby. I never had anything good before like you. I never ever thought someone would have my back like you. I’ve waited my entirelifeto have you in it. Don’t threaten to take that awaynow!”
Crosby started to nod, and then he stopped and leaned into Garcia’s palm. “I,” he said succinctly, “am going to be a needy fucking disaster every time we meet here.” His voice was thick with frustration and longing. “You think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life? I don’t want you to see me this… this fucking needy. This fucking sad. And….” He pulled in a shaky breath. “It’s like I can be a badass, and my game face is locked down, but the minute I was in your bed, I was… I was safe. And I don’t want to be your puppy, Calix. I want to be your man!”
Garcia swallowed. “You are,” he said softly, leaning into Crosby’s body so Crosbyhadto hold him. “We’re still partners, Crosby. We’re more partners than before, okay?”
They both stood, breathing hard, trying to get a handle on the hard emotions coursing through them both like an electric current, binding them tighter in a rictus of fear.
Crosby shuddered, and Garcia stepped away reluctantly, finding Crosby’s boxers with one fish under the covers.
“Thanks,” Crosby muttered, sliding them on.
“You will come here whenever you can,” Garcia said gruffly. “No hanging out in your shitty flat because you think it’s what you do. You will not last out there in the wind, Judson. You need shelter—it’s why there’s so many songs about it.”
