Return to Duty

by Elizabeth Hollows

  Tristan wasn’t wasting his time or his advantage. He moved to Jay’s pants, unbuckling and pushing them down. When Tristan’s fingers grazed his erection, Jay bit down on a moan. Tristan responded by cupping his cock and giving it a stroke. Jay’s breathing stuttered and he tried to thrust into the touch. Tristan chuckled before removing his hand entirely. He took his weight off Jay’s hips so he could tug Jay’s pants the rest of the way off, leaving Jay lying naked. Tristan licked his lips as he stared down at Jay’s hard cock. Was he imagining it inside him, just like Jay was?

  “Like what you see?” Jay asked, his voice heavy with lust.

  “Always,” Tristan answered, the honesty surprising Jay.

  Tristan didn’t look at Jay. He was focused on his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants, each second seeming to make him more frantic. Tristan finally removed his clothing, flinging each item away to join Jay’s. When he was naked, he reached for the oil and poured enough on his fingers to coat Jay’s cock. He stroked it and Jay spread his legs, giving him more room. God, it feels good. He grabbed Tristan’s hips, needing something to keep him grounded.

  Tristan’s grip on his cock was glorious. Jay had always known the man had talented hands, but this went beyond Jay’s expectations. Tristan interspersed slow strokes with fast ones, trailing his fingers over the head and down to Jay’s balls. It could have taken minutes or hours. All Jay knew was his steadily building pleasure. He could have fallen over the edge right there if Tristan hadn’t stopped. Something tapped against the back of his hand and he blinked open his eyes to find the oil pressed against his skin. Tristan was grinning.

  “Make yourself useful,” he demanded, a teasing gleam in his eye.

  “Demanding,” Jay muttered, but he was already smiling.

  He took the oil as Tristan shifted to a better position. When his fingers were coated, Jay cupped Tristan’s ass. The agent arched as Jay spread his cheeks and rubbed his slick fingers over his entrance. Jay pushed the first finger into Tristan and he let out a shaky exhale. His fingers jerked against Jay’s stomach and Jay grinned.

  He started a slow thrust in and out, stretching and teasing him with each motion. Tristan’s eyes were clenched shut as his obvious pleasure sparked along his features. The sight sent lust rushing through Jay, curling low in his stomach. When Jay added another finger, he thrust deep and curled his fingers, searching for Tristan’s prostate. When he hit it, Tristan’s composure finally broke. He pressed his hands to Jay’s chest, supporting himself as he arched back. He was clearly trying to get more—deeper, harder, fuller. It was such a beautiful image. Tristan looked divine as he lost himself to need. The way his spine curved at every brush to his prostate was more beautiful than the desert sky. Jay could do this every day.

  Slipping his fingers free, Jay coated them with more oil before pressing back inside. He wasn’t preparing Tristan anymore. He was watching the show. When he rubbed against Tristan’s prostate again, Tristan shuddered and his cock jumped at the stimulation. It was weeping with arousal and Jay wet his lips with desire. He almost forgot about his own need to come. He was so busy admiring Tristan’s.

  “I’m ready. I’m ready,” Tristan groaned. “Stop teasing me, Jay.”

  Chuckling, Jay removed his fingers, feeling Tristan’s entrance flutter at the absence. Jay shifted his hold so one hand was on Tristan’s hip while he brought the oil back between them. Tristan took the bottle before Jay could blink. He poured some on his hand before stroking Jay’s cock and making sure it was well lubricated. Jay couldn’t help thrusting forward, but Tristan didn’t stop. He sped up and squeezed just below Jay’s cockhead. He made sure Jay was good and erect before positioning himself. Tristan took a firm grip and guided the cockhead inside.

  Jay moaned. His eyes fell shut and his head hit the wood as the tightness overwhelmed him. Tristan lowered himself at a slow pace. He gripped Tristan’s hips and clenched his teeth. He wanted to thrust into the tight, blissful warmth, but he made himself stay still. Tristan was letting out soft huffs of breath every few seconds.

  It was so much better than the first time. Sex on the IA ship had been cold, fast and impersonal. They had each achieved an orgasm, but it had been mechanical—two people going through the motions. Now, Jay felt like he was on fire, burning up from passion and want. He felt like nothing else in the world existed beyond the feel and sounds of Tristan. There was sweat on their bodies and the heat and smell of the desert remained, but all that only made it so much better. Jay fluttered his eyes open to look at his lover. Tristan’s face was taut with concentration and desire and he was the most beautiful thing Jay had ever seen. Jay wanted to drag him closer and devour his lips in a kiss of hunger and possession. How had they gone without this for days?

  When Tristan finally took all of Jay’s cock inside, they were both trembling. He sat in Jay’s lap, filled to the brim with Jay’s shaft. Jay rocked his hips gently, making Tristan’s voice crack on a moan. He fisted his hands against Jay’s chest as he bit his lip.

  “Ready?” Jay asked, his voice rough with need.

  Tristan opened his eyes, and although it took him a moment to focus, when he did, he grinned. It was all the warning Jay had before Tristan pressed his hands to his chest and raised himself off Jay’s cock before dropping back down. They both moaned and Jay tightened his hold on Tristan’s hips. He drew up his legs, bracing them on the ground as he assisted Tristan. They began a slow rhythm of lift, drop and thrust. Before long, Jay sped up and Tristan rolled his hips to meet Jay’s movements. Jay shifted himself to find the right angle to strike Tristan’s prostate and Tristan cried out when he succeeded. His hands scrabbled for purchase on Jay’s chest, his nails scratching Jay’s skin and only heightening his pleasure. Jay concentrated to make sure he struck his lover’s prostate every time.

  Tristan started to curse under his breath, the occasional whisper of Jay’s name slipping free. Jay couldn’t take his eyes off Tristan. His damp hair fell around his flushed face, and his mouth was parted as he gasped for breath, his lips pink and bitten. Jay refused to look away. His pistoning increased while his heart pounded, not just from arousal but from something far more dangerous.

  “Tristan,” Jay gasped out.

  Tristan opened his eyes. Arousal had darkened the usual bright blue and Tristan looked as close to orgasm as Jay felt—yet Tristan still bent down, disrupting their rhythm to press an open-mouthed kiss against Jay’s lips.

  Jay moaned and, on his next thrust, he pushed deep into Tristan. Tristan shouted and grasped his cock, stroking himself desperately. Jay raced toward his climax, cursing and panting Tristan’s name, his desire rising to a precipice with no return. It only took a tight clench of Tristan’s muscles for Jay’s orgasm to overwhelm him. He came with a shout and arched deep into Tristan. Tristan followed him over the edge, but Jay only managed a few more thrusts before he was collapsing back against the rug. Jay let out a shaky breath as his legs slid down to rest flat on the wood. Tristan slumped against him, lying on Jay’s chest and breathing heavily.

  Jay lifted a hand to stroke Tristan’s back in comfort and affection. It was nice. They might be hot, sweaty and covered in the mess from their activities but Jay still didn’t want to move. The only thing he desired was to wrap an arm around Tristan and keep him close. He wanted to curl up and go to sleep with his lover.

  He liked this. He liked Tristan too much. Dread formed like a rock in Jay’s stomach. He looked at the man resting against him with the first wave of regret, because this wasn’t a relationship built to last. It wasn’t really a relationship at all, and any affectionate gestures he wanted to offer wouldn’t be welcomed. Tristan only proved that theory by shifting off him and rolling away from Jay. He didn’t go far, merely lying down on his back beside him, but it was enough. The sex was over and now came the consequences.

  Jay made himself look away from the agent to stare at the cloth tent above them. He watched it shift with the breeze and wondered, What do I
do now? How do I deal with an infatuation and a wish to keep him?

  But there was no one Jay could ask, and there was no easy answer he would be willing to hear.

  Chapter Eight

  They’d shared a lot of silences over the course of their mission, more than Jay had ever shared with his platoon or other lovers. It wasn’t that they could understand each other without speaking. It was because there were still too many secrets and walls between them to risk being honest.

  Jay didn’t know how long the current quiet had lasted, but Tristan was the one to break it.

  “I’ve liked our time together, Jay,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

  Jay turned his head, but Tristan remained watching the roof. He was frowning, and while Jay wanted to wipe the man’s frustration away, he knew it wasn’t his place.

  “I’ve liked it too,” Jay admitted.

  Tristan pursed his lips into a frown. He seemed angry, which didn’t make sense.

  “Tristan—”

  “I don’t know why you’d go back to being a thief,” Tristan interrupted.

  Jay hesitated, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie or joke. “I never said I would.”

  Tristan snapped his head to the side. His eyes were wide, and he rushed out his next question. “Would you go back into service?”

  Jay flinched. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Tristan—”

  “No,” Tristan growled, his earlier frustration returning as he propped himself on an elbow to stare at Jay. “I don’t understand why you would throw away an exemplary career.”

  “Tristan—”

  “Something you’re still good at,” he continued, undeterred.

  “Tristan—”

  “And something that, for all I can see”—Tristan’s voice rose—“you still love to do. So why—?”

  “I saw an entire platoon get massacred, Tristan,” Jay growled.

  Tristan’s frustration disappeared. His face became cold and steely, but his tone was soft. “What happened?”

  Jay turned to stare at the canopy above them. He didn’t see the fabric as he remembered the worst days of his life.

  “The commander in charge was working for the enemy and wanted us dead,” Jay recounted, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “We’d seen something that could implicate him, although we didn’t know that at the time. He sent us to capture an enemy base and save the hostages who had been transported there. He told us we’d be dropped into a safe zone with at least a day’s journey before we met the enemy.

  “The place was thick with trees camouflaging ditches built by the enemy to keep them from being surprised. It was a well-defended area, but we would have been able to take it…if the enemy hadn’t been waiting.”

  Jay swallowed. He could still hear the shouts of confusion and cries of pain as they all scrambled to get out of the line of fire.

  “They ambushed us,” Jay continued, his voice becoming raspy. “The transport ship went up in flames. The explosion and resulting wreckage killed two of my men in seconds. They shot a few more down before we could get to the tree line.”

  Rage and pain were familiar companions whenever he thought of that disastrous mission. So many good men—brothers—had been lost because of one traitor in charge.

  Tristan touched his arm. It was supportive and comforting, yet when he looked at his lover, he saw compassion and a matching fury. Tristan’s understanding made it easier to go on. Jay didn’t shrug off Tristan’s touch, but he looked back at the canopy.

  “A few of us made it into the trees. We tried to regroup and get to safe ground, but it became obvious that the information we had couldn’t be trusted. It was designed to keep us trapped inside enemy lines.”

  Jay swallowed painfully. He could remember his friends dying all around him, the wounded knowing they wouldn’t survive and staying back anyway to buy time for the few who were left. His team had been the best and had been together for years. They were a family and they would do anything to protect one another, even sacrifice themselves.

  “I had twelve men,” Jay whispered, “but only myself and one other survived.” Tristan’s grip on him tightened. “Milton was injured, and we took weeks to get back to the UCAFD.” Jay closed his eyes, guilt clawing at him. “He needed a cybernetic arm. The damage was too extensive and the insufficient field treatment only made it worse.”

  “You know that wasn’t your fault,” Tristan insisted.

  “No,” Jay admitted, “it wasn’t.”

  He didn’t blame himself for deaths that he couldn’t have stopped. He knew he’d done everything he could have for Milton—but it still hadn’t been enough.

  “They were my team,” Jay said roughly, “and I led them there. I survived when they didn’t.”

  Jay’s survivor’s guilt wasn’t as bad as when he’d left the UCAFD, but he knew it would never truly go away.

  Milton had been discharged, unable to remain in service with his cybernetic arm. Jay had returned with him to Milton’s home planet, wanting to apologize to Milton’s wife for not doing enough. She had hugged him and stopped him from speaking. She didn’t blame him, and neither did the other wives and families. Jay had attended every funeral, and all they’d done was hug him. It made him feel worse and was another reason why he’d run away.

  “What happened to the commander?” Tristan asked, dragging Jay back to the present.

  “He tried to cover his tracks, but when Milton and I returned, we exposed him and the dozens”—Jay spat the word, still furious at the extent of the deception—“of people working for him and the enemy.” Jay clenched his fists. “They’re either in jail or were executed. The UCAFD tried to keep it quiet, but people still found out and took their revenge.”

  For a long time, Jay had wanted revenge too. Rage and grief had clouded his mind for years before he made himself let it go. He forced himself to accept what had happened and that justice had been served. Jay had been trained knowing that he and his fellow soldiers could all die. It was the bitterness of betrayal that made it so much harder to accept, but Jay had learned to swallow it down. He reminded himself that if he had died, he wouldn’t have wanted his brothers to spend their life in pain and anger.

  But it had made it impossible to stay with the UCAFD. He couldn’t trust that all the parasites had been removed. It was why Heath had become Jaybird and why he had run so hard into a make-believe life. Jaybird only wanted a good time and a shiny bauble. He didn’t feel pain or get bothered by betrayal. It was why being tied to a service contract for longer than this mission and why following commands blindly now made his skin crawl.

  “I couldn’t trust the UCAFD or the people giving me orders,” Jay forced himself to conclude. “I still can’t. It’s why I work alone. If something goes wrong, I know it was my decision and that no one else will suffer for it.”

  Tristan didn’t respond for a long time, but when he did, it wasn’t how Jay expected. He moved his hand down Jay’s arm until he found Jay’s clenched fist. He rubbed his fingers over the knuckles, coaxing him to relax. When Jay complied, Tristan rested his hand over Jay’s. He didn’t link their fingers, but the warm weight of his palm was a comforting and grounding touch.

  “What happened to you and your platoon was horrible,” Tristan said. “I understand why you left.” He squeezed Jay’s hand. “Thank you for trusting me with what happened.”

  Jay nodded. He didn’t look at Tristan, but he focused on the feel of their hands, the smell of the desert and the sight of the cloth moving above their heads. Tristan shifted onto his back again. He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t retract his hand. He remained a grounding presence until Jay could push everything back down and get his emotions under control.

  Slowly, the memories of his past were locked away once more—gone, but never forgotten.

  When he was ready, Jay symbolized it by shifting his hand from underneath Tristan’s. He didn’t want to pull away, but Jay
knew he couldn’t justify it any longer. Tristan’s hand disappeared, but he didn’t move any farther. They remained lying beside each other on the rug.

  “I understand now why you would go back to being a thief,” Tristan said, sounding unexpectedly resigned.

  Jay smiled. He repeated his words from earlier. “I never said I would.”

  This time, Tristan caught on and he turned to look at Jay. “What will you do?”

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he’d said before, but now, after everything, Jay was willing to be a little more truthful. Maybe it was a mistake, but damn it all, Jay suddenly didn’t care.

  “I’ll go see Milton. It’s been a few years. I might become a bounty hunter.” He let out a chuckle. “It’s a legal profession, at least.”

  Tristan made a sound Jay couldn’t define. He glanced at Tristan to find him frowning up at the roof. He looked like he was trying to solve a complex equation.

  “Tristan?” Jay asked.

  The agent jerked and glanced at him, but Jay still couldn’t read his face.

  “Would you be happy as a bounty hunter?” Tristan questioned

  Jay didn’t understand why any of this mattered. What did Tristan care if he was happy? Why was it important if he became a bounty hunter, a soldier or a thief? It wouldn’t affect Tristan at all.

  “I could do a lot worse,” Jay said. “I might even end up loving it.”

  Tristan smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jay frowned, but before he could ask, Tristan was sitting up and the soft moment they’d been sharing had disappeared. Tristan was surveying the campsite with the eyes of a soldier. Their break from the mission was over, and Jay realized with regret that he should have kissed Tristan while he’d had the chance.