by Layla Reyne
“Different how?”
“I’m in love with you, Brax.”
There was the jolt he expected. “Holt—”
“Let me say this first, please.” Holt shifted, moving to sit on the bed beside him, needing all the nearness he could get. “I meant what I said yesterday. Besides Lily, you are the most important person in my world. Chris was right last summer. If something happened to you, I’d either fall apart or destroy the person who hurt you. I’d burn the world down for you, Braxton Kane.” Brax cast his gaze aside and dipped his chin, but Holt wouldn’t let him—wouldn’t let either of them—hide from the blinding truth of the bond between them. Brax needed to see the commitment in his eyes, needed to understand how deep Holt’s emotions ran. “I didn’t know what to do with that either, but over these past months, the past week, the answer resolved. Hell, it was always there, but now it’s in focus, and I can’t look away, Cap. I don’t want to.”
“What are you saying?” Brax’s words were so soft, so tentative, so full of barely restrained hope they shook.
Holt wanted to pry the reins loose for good. Scooting closer, he laid a hand on Brax’s thigh and cupped the nape of his neck with the other, teasing the short hairs there. “I felt it in DC all those years ago, felt it before that even, sitting at your bedside in the infirmary. I didn’t know what it was then, but I know now.” He kissed Brax’s shoulder and reveled in Brax’s answering gasp and the shifting of the denim beneath his hand. “Feel it like I never have before.” He lifted his eyes, and they clashed with heated hazel. Hope was there too, so overwhelming, so fragile, it roughened Holt’s next words. “I’m in love with you, Braxton Kane, and I want you so much. If you still want me too.”
“Christ, Holt.” Apprehension and agony scared off the hope, and Holt wanted to rail. “You know I do, but it’s only been nine months.”
“No, Brax, it’s been fourteen years.”
Brax swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and his eyes flicked away, then back. “How does this work? I’m a cop. You’re—”
Holt pressed a hand to Brax’s chest, over his heart, which was pounding almost as fast and hard as Holt’s. “Does what my family and I do change how you feel here?” He slid his hand lower, to where he’d intended it to go before, over Brax’s dick, which was hard as a rock. “Or here?”
Brax bit his bottom lip, failing to stifle a growl and the thrust of his hips. “Of course it doesn’t.” The flare of anger, of frustration in his voice matched the same in Holt’s. “I wanted you—loved you—before I ever knew about your family, and despite that tattoo on your arm, it doesn’t change who you are. You are a good man, but while I know that, while I know the changes your family is making, and that in all of it you’ve been kept mostly clean, to the rest of the world—”
“The rest of the world can fuck right off.” Shifting, Holt slung a leg over Brax’s lap and straddled him. On the end of the bed as they were, Brax was forced to grab hold, and his hands on Holt’s ass were almost too distracting.
Almost.
“This is between you and me.” He framed Brax’s face, thumbs sweeping his cheeks. “But I know how much your reputation means to you, so if I need to leave the family business for you to keep it, then so be it. I will.”
Brax inhaled sharply. “You’d do that?”
“Did you miss the flee the country together offer earlier?” Holt rolled his eyes hard, and Brax released his breath on a chuckle. Holt lowered his forehead, resting it against Brax’s. “Same principle applies. We fit, Cap, we always have, better even than I fit in my own damn family, and as much as I love them, if it comes down to a choice between them or you, I choose you. With you is where I belong.”
Brax straightened and hauled Holt closer. Leaving one hand on his ass, he glided the other up his spine, under his tank, and fuck if Holt didn’t want to melt right there. Brax’s words didn’t make his insides any more solid. “I can’t have this piece of you and walk away again. I can’t, baby.”
Holt groaned and rocked his hips, recalling Brax’s slip of the endearment in DC and drowning in it all over again. Groaned more as Brax’s lips coasted over his cheek, along his jaw, and down his neck.
“I need more,” Brax whispered into the hollow at the base of his throat.
“I can’t give you everything,” Holt said. Brax tensed beneath him, and Holt drew back, but only far enough to look Brax in the eyes, to make sure he could see and hear the truth of his words, the depth of his love, and the desperation of his own plea. “Lily will always have a huge piece of me. My family will have a part of my heart, Jax and my other kids at the shelter too. Amelia, even, as the mother of my child. But everything else, all the rest of me, it’s yours, Brax. I’m yours. Is that enough?”
Agony faded and hope rushed back into Brax’s eyes, and the grin that split his face was the biggest Holt had ever seen on his best friend. “More than enough.” He stretched up, slamming his smile against Holt’s, claiming his mouth and his heart, and fuck if Holt didn’t want him to claim every other part of him too.
After several long, plundering kisses, Holt skated his lips off Brax’s mouth and trailed kisses along his jaw, stubble prickling his lips and stoking his senses. “So can we get back to what we started in the kitchen?” He nipped a path to Brax’s ear and ran his hands down his torso. “I remember this body. Wanna feel it against mine again.”
Brax rolled his hips. “Yeah, baby, nothing I want more.” Holt moaned in pleasure, then in protest when Brax removed his hand from his ass. “I remember things too,” Brax said. “Vividly.” Then brought his hand back down to spank Holt’s ass.
Holt’s jeans muffled the sound, not loud enough to wake Lily, but the smack was hard enough to send sparks firing through him, making his head spin with unbridled desire. Brax swallowed his wanton groan in a kiss, muffling the needy sound. He was on fire, every part of him burning, hottest where Brax’s lips and hands roamed. Brax delivered another spank as his other hand quested under Holt’s tank, bunching it up and forcing Holt to break their kiss to shuck it off. Totally worth it for the feel of Brax’s lips and tongue dragging across his chest, of Brax’s long thin fingers spreading over his torso.
“I didn’t get enough time before, with this body or with you.” Brax captured a nipple between his teeth and sucked.
“Jesus, Brax, that feels…” Fuck, he was almost thirty-four, not twenty-three, but fucking hell, he was right there at the edge already. He reached between them, needing to adjust, to shove a hand down his pants and grab his balls and beg them to please fucking wait, but Brax smacked his hand aside.
“Nuh-uh, that’s mine tonight.” He palmed Holt through his jeans.
Holt thrust up, chasing his touch. “Not helping.”
Brax chuckled. “When’s the last time you were tested?”
“After… Last summer…” He stuttered, heat rushing to his face again. “Hawes made me, just in case. I’m fine, and I haven’t… There’s been no one… I don’t…”
“Shh, baby, I know, not how you work.” He kissed some of the awkwardness away. “No issues here, and I haven’t been with anyone since my last test either.”
He made to move, and Holt stopped him, a hand around the side of his neck, thumb skirting over his hammering pulse. “Why didn’t you ever bring anyone around?” he asked, apparently unable to let go of awkward.
Brax’s pulse skipped and sadness raced across his hazel eyes. “Because they weren’t you. I didn’t need the direct comparison to know that.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry I made you wait.”
“No, baby, don’t apologize for that.” He drew back, the sadness in his eyes erased by conviction, fiery and absolute. “We’re where we’re supposed to be when we’re supposed to be. And that little girl down the hall, the man you are today, both were worth the wait. I wouldn’t trade either of you for anything.” He brought their mouths back together, and the truth of Brax’s words painted every swipe of his tongue, every pr
ess of his lips, every inch of Holt’s skin his fingers traversed and seared. Muffled his startled gasp when Brax shoved to his feet, Holt in his arms, and flipped them, bringing Holt down on his back in the center of the bed. Holt parted his legs, feet braced on the mattress, and Brax lowered himself between them, on top of him.
They sighed together, the fit and torture perfect.
Surprise had taken enough of the edge off that Holt happily lingered in the kisses Brax demanded, enjoyed the coast of hands across his skin and the gentle roll of hips, relished Brax’s hard cock grinding against his own.
He couldn’t get enough of Brax’s taste. He’d locked that memory away too, caramel, beer, and whisky the flavors he remembered most from that night in DC. Tonight, the taste of Brax was even better—caramel still, always, but add good coffee, braised brisket, and fried potatoes, and it was a Brax-wrapped delicacy—across his tongue and inside his mouth, imprinting a new memory beside the old one.
He wanted more of it. Same as he wanted more of the lean, strong body writhing against his. He glided his hands down Brax’s sides and under the hem of his shirt. He grappled at the warm skin underneath, trailed his fingertips up Brax’s spine, and laughed through a kiss as a shiver followed in their wake.
“My spine is not a keyboard,” Brax grumbled around a smile.
Holt hooked his legs over Brax’s hips, holding him with his knees and hands to help Brax balance as he levered up to pull off his shirt. “I know,” Holt said. “My computers don’t shimmy like—” His words died, choked by the heart-shaped lump in his throat that had materialized at seeing the ink on Brax’s shoulders and arms. The tattoos that hadn’t been there a decade ago and that Holt had only ever glimpsed the ends of under Brax’s sleeves.
“Brax, what…” There were no words for everything crashing around inside him, for this feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.
Brax planted his hands back on the mattress, on either side of Holt’s head, and hung his own, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. “You’re my family too. You and Lily. I wanted you with me always.”
Holt ran his hands over the clean and simple line work. Vines dotted with flowers. Poppies, like the ones that grew all around Camp Casey, like the one Holt had had etched into the crystal candy dish for Brax’s desk, and… Holt’s fingers trembled over the lilies.
“I added those last year,” Brax said.
“The trip back to the East Coast?”
“Wynn’s the best.”
“Brax, I don’t…”
Brax sank onto his forearms, thumbs teasing Holt’s temples, and fuck, if the ink hadn’t already robbed Holt of words, the adoration in Brax’s eyes right then would have. “I’ve loved you since the moment you stepped off that transport, Private.”
“I—” Holt cleared his throat; he did have words, words he needed to say. Words to put to feelings he understood better now than he had a decade ago. Words and feelings the past fourteen years had built. “I trusted you that same moment, Cap, and then the love came. I love you because you’re my best friend, because I trust you. More than anyone.”
Brax dotted his face with kisses—both cheeks, the jaw hinge on either side of his face, his forehead, the spot between his eyes, the tip of his nose, his lips, the chin dimple buried in his beard. “Do you trust me to make this good for you?”
Holt hitched his legs higher, rutting and keening. “Fuck yes.” He raced his hands down Brax’s back, beneath the waistband of his jeans, clenching the tops of his ass cheeks and toppling him off-balance so Holt could nip at the tendon of his neck. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Make love to me, Brax. Please.”
Brax claimed his mouth, and after another thorough plundering, went to work systematically claiming the rest of him. Military efficiency put to wicked good use. Kissing, nipping, and licking every inch of Holt’s torso, lighting fires with each possessive touch and sending ripples inward—desire the pinball now, tossed between two levers, Holt’s heart and dick. Relief came in short quick bursts, Brax stroking his cock or levering up to steal a kiss. The torture, though, was brilliant. The slow slide of denim off his legs, the teasing snap of elastic before Brax yanked off his boxers too, the flex of Brax’s muscles as he removed the rest of his own clothing. And then the perfect goddamn heat when there was nothing left between them, skin to skin, limbs and tongues tangled, the scratch of Brax’s brown and gray chest hair revving him up as much as the bump and grind of their cocks.
Brax shifted as if to slide down Holt’s body, and as much as Holt wanted Brax to suck his dick again, he wanted something else more. He grabbed Brax by the shoulders, stopping his descent. “You do that, and I’m gonna blow in about two seconds, and while that was forgivable at twenty-three, not so much at this age.”
Brax laughed and buried his nose in Holt’s armpit, the motion and affection so pleasantly distracting to Holt that Brax managed to sneak a hand down and around their cocks, holding them together. “I’m fairly certain you’ll have no trouble with a repeat performance.”
Eyes scrunched closed, Holt bowed his back off the bed and cursed through gritted teeth. Fuck, that felt better than he’d allowed himself to remember. He thrust into Brax’s grip, driving against his cock, and smiled when Brax moaned.
“You want it like this?” Brax said. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you, Holt. Always.”
Fuck yes, he wanted this, for the rest of his life, but still, in this moment, there was something he wanted more. He clasped the side of Brax’s neck, holding him close. “Suck me on round two. Pump us on round three. But for right now, fuck, Brax, just get inside me.”
Brax’s stroke faltered. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna blow in about two seconds.”
Holt flailed an arm out to the side, reaching for the bedside drawer where he’d put the condoms and lube that—bless his meddling sister’s heart—she’d also included in the supply run. “I’m prepared this time.”
Brax laughed, the noise so free and loud that Holt had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled behind Holt’s hand, then proceeded to lick his palm, sending shivers and goosebumps racing across Holt’s skin.
Holt snatched his hand away. “That’s dirty,” he playfully chided.
Grinning, Brax popped the cap on the lube and poured a generous amount in his hand. “I might have to play dirty to make this good for you. That okay?”
Nerves skidded in the wake of Holt’s earlier goosebumps.
Brax soothed them with a gentle hand coasting over his thigh. “Trust me.”
Easiest ask in the world.
Holt released his held breath, forced the tension out of his limbs, and laid himself out for the person he trusted and loved most in the world.
“That’s it, baby.” Brax cupped his balls with his slick hand, then slid it lower, over his taint, massaging and teasing as lube trickled down his fingers toward Holt’s hole. Brax added more as he fingered his rim, the sensations so insane, so intense, Holt bowed off the bed again. He came back down to a pillow placed under his hips.
“This’ll make it easier,” Brax said.
Easier to bear down as Brax slowly slipped one, then two, lubed fingers inside him, coaching him through the unfamiliar pressure on the way to the blinding pleasure of fingers massaging his prostate. “Holy fuck.”
“Feel good?”
“Fuck yeah.” Heat rushed to Holt’s skin as he fisted the sheets and rode Brax’s fingers with abandon.
Kisses peppered his torso. “Do you have any idea how hot the blushing and the freckles”—he licked a path over the auburn trail bisecting Holt’s pelvis—“and the red hair are to me?”
Oh, Holt had an idea all right, Brax’s rock-hard dick evidence aplenty. His own dick was a straining, leaking mess, and Brax playing dirty was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. “Need you to fuck me, please.”
The rip of foil and the snap of the condom were a symphony to Holt’s ea
rs. A squirt more lube—Brax coating himself might have been the most erotic sight Holt had ever seen—and then Brax’s cock was nudging his hole, pushing at his rim… and getting nowhere. Keening turned into whining that would crush Holt under a mountain of embarrassment if he weren’t already being crushed by a mountain of turned-on frustrated impatience. Fuck, he just wanted…
“Hey, Private.”
He opened his eyes, and Brax’s hazel ones were right there, smiling and full of love and mischief. “I’m gonna have to play dirty.”
“Whatev—”
Brax spanked his thigh harder than before. Holt tensed, the spike of stinging pain intense, then groaned as his muscles relaxed under the flood of pleasure. And Brax’s cock eased in an inch. Eyes still locked, he gave Brax a nod. Brax snaked an arm under his knee, propping a leg against his shoulder and hitching his hip higher, shifting Holt so the next spank hit his ass, and fuck, Holt was gonna—
Brax closed his other hand around Holt’s dick, stroked it, and holy fuck, there was that melting sensation again, distracting and relaxing him enough that Brax’s cock slid in farther. One more spank and Brax thrust the rest of the way home. The pressure in Holt’s ass was like nothing he’d ever felt but so was the pressure in his chest, in his heart, for the man connected to him in the most intimate way possible. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow. “I think I like dirty.”
Brax stretched over him and kissed across his collarbone. “Figured you might.”
“Think I might like to come sometime tonight too.”
That earned him another pop and answering laughter against each other’s lips.
“I love you, Holt Madigan, so fucking much.”
Holt trailed his fingers across the ink again. “I know, baby.” And fuck if speaking the endearment wasn’t as much of a turn-on as hearing it. The reverse seemed to hold true for Brax, judging by his dick swelling in Holt’s ass and his hand tightening around his cock. “Now, show me,” Holt panted against Brax’s cheek. “I trust you. I love you.”