Page 39 of Under Cover
But Crosby had other ideas. One kiss, one love bite at a time, he made his way down Garcia’s chest, pausing to nibble on first one nipple, then the other. After flicking with his tongue while pinching the other nipple, he gave a hard lick and glanced up.
“You have until I get to your cock to find the lube,” he growled, licking the nipple again.
“What happens then?” Garcia panted.
“I suck you down my throat and stick a finger up your ass and you come.”
Garcia groaned, already scrabbling for the lubricant in his side drawer. “What happens… ah!” Crosby had moved to his other nipple. “What happens if… oh fuck—there it is—I get you the lubricant?” Crosby was kissing down his stomach and Garcia was wild with need, but at his words, Crosby paused to look up and meet his eyes.
“I lick you,” he promised. “I stretch you. I fuck you.” He said it with absolute commitment, and Garcia gasped and shot a little precome and tried really hard not to lose his nut.
“Here,” he gasped, handing over the lube, unable to play this game. “Suck me and stretch me. Make me come. Fuck me until I pass out.”
Crosby kept moving down his body, where he took Garcia’s cock into his mouth and fumbled with the lube. In a moment Garcia felt the invasion of Crosby’s thick fingers up his ass, and his thighs trembled as he held them open.
With a moan around Garcia’s cock and a hard, long suck up the shaft with a frantic lick of the head, Crosby kept the two fingers scissoring, loosening, while his mouth worked. Garcia let go of his noises, gave up on control, until Crosby pulled his fingers out and he keened.
“You still want the whole package?” Crosby taunted. “I sucked your cock and stretched your ass. You want me to—”
“Fuck me!”Garcia commanded. “God, fuck me. I will fuckingend youif you don’t—gah!”
Crosby was true to his word. With a swift predatory motion, he lunged up the bed and positioned himself at Garcia’s entrance, thrusting slowly in.
Garcia lost himself for whole moments, a circle of fire forming behind his eyes as he allowed Crosby to invade his body, to possess him wholly, to fuck him raw and without inhibition. They were both on PrEP protocol—Harding asked all his people to be on it, because the job could get bloody. In this case it meant he didn’t have to worry about Crosby taking care of him, but he wouldn’t anyway.
Crosby wouldn’t let anything happen to Garcia—not on the job and not here. Garcia knew that in his bones, which meant every thrust of Crosby’s cock was more than just a sublime explosion of nerve endings, it was a merging of two people who had been dancing toward this for a long time.
It was coming home.
And then it was carnal, sweaty, absolutely committed sex. Crosby fucked him blindly, and Garcia urged him on in guttural shouts. Home wasn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it was sweaty, angry, needy oblivion, and Garcia was starving for that too.
“Harder!” He demanded. “Harder!”
The slap of their flesh was almost brutal, and Garcia knew he’d have bruises on his ass in the morning, but he didn’t care. Something desperate in both of them demanded this, and Garcia craved Crosby’s release, wanted to beg for his come like a wanton, greedy slut, but he didn’t have the breath.
Crosby arched his back, flexed his stomach, and the ridges of his abdomen caught the end of Garcia’s cock. With a snarling moan Garcia cried out, his entire body convulsing in orgasm, and Crosby gave a shout, hips stuttering as he hammered his climax into Garcia’s ass, thrusting deeper, deeper, until his come became part of Garcia’s DNA.
Garcia felt the heat of it, filling him, seeping out of his destroyed entrance, and almost wept with the relief of it. Crosby collapsed on top of him, and for a moment the two of them panted in the shattered peace of afterglow.
With a grunt, Crosby rolled off him and was about to get off the bed.
“Where you going?” Garcia mumbled, trying to take stock.
Crosby kissed his temple. “Washcloth. I’ll be back.”
“You’re staying here,” Garcia ordered, frowning. “I don’t need a washcloth. Come back to bed.”
Crosby paused, frowning. “I won’t leave you,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t do you like that. I just want to take care of you. Nobody likes to sleep in the wet spot.”
He got up then and disappeared, and Garcia heard him moving around in the bathroom. In another moment he was back. He had Garcia roll over and gently sponged him off, fingering his abused asshole gingerly.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Garcia chuckled, facedown on his own bed. “God no. I needed that like you wouldn’t believe.”
Crosby’s kiss on his tender buttock was a sweet surprise. “Good. I don’t want to ever hurt you.”
Garcia moaned, and without his permission, his legs spread as his greedy asshole tried to offer itself up to Crosby in supplication.
