by Abigail Roux
He was peripherally aware of Zane putting his knife back into its sheath, then removing both of them from his wrists and setting them on the table next to the door where they kept their keys, badges, guns, and miscellaneous weaponry. Ty held Zane’s gaze, though, and Zane smiled warmly. How many times had they fucked and forgotten to disarm first? It had caused some odd injuries over the years.
Zane’s hand slid down the taut muscles of Ty’s stomach, fingers grazing the juncture of his hip and the base of his cock. Ty was only half-hard, but Zane would soon remedy that if he continued in this manner. He nosed his way along Ty’s jaw again and nuzzled against Ty’s neck to kiss and nip at his favorite spot right above Ty’s collarbone.
“Zane,” Ty begged. Then he remembered they were supposed to be fighting and he was supposed to be angry, not begging Zane to touch him. He grunted in frustration. This wasn’t going to work.
Zane winked at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief and lust. God, how Ty loved the man. He had to dig deep for harsh words that would sell their little act.
“It’s going to take more than a couple licks and a sloppy handjob to get me off, jackass.”
Zane raised an eyebrow, a smirk flitting across his lips. Ty mirrored the expression, offering a silent challenge. What, Zane thought they were going to fake angry sex and not get down and dirty for this one? Please.
Zane jerked open his fly and shoved the fabric out of the way. He jutted his chin out to kiss Ty, then with one last squeeze, let go and spun him around to thump his chest against the wall. Then Zane kicked his ankles apart, gasping as he curled one hand over Ty’s shoulder and shoved his hard cock against Ty’s ass, nudging between his cheeks.
“Fuck,” Zane whispered, and they both groaned. Zane rested his forehead against the back of Ty’s shoulder, their bodies pressed tight from thigh to chest, warm and hard and familiar. When he spoke, he muffled his words by pressing his lips into Ty’s skin. “We’ve got to figure out how to move this upstairs.”
Ty nodded. If they weren’t careful, they’d enjoy this too much and forget to sell the conflict. “You think you’re fucking me without lube, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
Zane laughed almost cruelly. “Can’t have you bitching because you’re sore.”
Ty shoved away from the wall, and Zane stumbled back. He barely caught himself before he tripped over his satchel on the floor. Ty kicked out of his ruined work pants and his briefs, and then yanked his shirt off his shoulders. They were never going to find all the damn buttons to it anyway.
“Go to Hell, Garrett, go sober up somewhere,” he snarled, and he stomped off toward the stairs. When he reached the foot of the steps, he glanced over his shoulder to find Zane following him, head cocked, blatantly leering at Ty’s bare ass. Zane met his eyes and winked. Ty gestured for him to come at him. They’d make another scene here to sell the charade . . . and Ty was pretty sure there was some lube stashed in one of the kitchen drawers, within reach if they wound up getting carried away.
Zane moved in front of Ty, and then trailed the backs of his fingers down Ty’s cheek, giving him a chaste little kiss before he stepped back and shoved Ty into the wall. The rough brick bit at Ty’s skin, and Zane’s body hit him a moment later, knocking the breath out of him.
“Easy!”
Zane kissed him, silencing him, and Ty’s fingers found their way into Zane’s mess of dark, curly hair. He hitched one leg up Zane’s hip, and Zane grabbed the back of his thigh, thrusting their cocks together. They both groaned, loud enough that even a discount listening device from Walmart could have picked up the sound.
“Right here,” Zane growled, and he raised a bottle of lube he’d grabbed from somewhere.
“Where the fuck did that come from?”
“My bag.”
“You take lube with you to work?” Ty shouted, genuinely outraged.
Zane bit his ear and whispered, “It’s from the trip to Seattle, baby.”
Ty’s body responded to the memory of that particular business trip. Zane had taken Ty with him, knowing he’d have more downtime than work to do. They hadn’t exactly spent their free time sightseeing.
Ty set one foot on the stair railing and pushed, helping Zane to hoist him up the wall. Zane was jacking himself with one slick hand, coating himself in preparation. He bit down on Ty’s collarbone hard enough to make Ty cry out, then he did it again as if the sound had spurred him on.
Zane was either actually losing control, or he was pretending so well even Ty believed him. And Ty liked it. A lot. “Come on,” he whispered, and he rose up onto his toes, pushing harder against the stair rail with his other foot.
He tried at the same time not to tense, but it was near impossible when he was holding himself against the wall. Zane shoved one slick finger into him, and Ty gasped. Yeah, this was going to hurt a little. He scrabbled against the rough brick for something to grab, then settled on grabbing Zane.
“Okay?” Zane whispered against his ear.
Ty nodded.
“Tell me to stop if you need to,” Zane bit out before jerking his finger free and lining himself up.
Ty nodded again, and Zane started to push in. He was going to leave his mark on Ty tonight, fake or not.
Then Zane stopped, his body stiffening and the head of his cock just barely breaching Ty. He shuddered in Ty’s arms, and his cock pulsed, pushing at tense muscles. He dug his fingers into Ty’s thigh and set his forehead against Ty’s neck. “Fuck, Ty.”
“Zane,” Ty gasped. Then he grinned, nipping at Zane’s ear. “Sell it, baby, come on. Fuck me.”
Zane raised his head, his dark eyes flashing.
Ty shivered with anticipation and nodded. “Hard.”
Zane huffed and snapped his hips, once, twice, forcing himself in with a low growl. Ty banged his head against the brick wall, eyes squeezed shut, gritting his teeth through the burn of the entry. “Come on, Garrett,” he taunted even as his voice trembled. “That the best you got?”
Zane thrust in again, his cock spreading Ty open further. The brick dragged against Ty’s skin, and his muscles were screaming as he tried to hold himself up with the banister. Zane’s grasping fingers found their way into Ty’s hair and yanked his head to the side as he shoved deeper into him.
“Fuck!” Zane finally shouted, sounding frustrated when he couldn’t get Ty’s body at the right angle to sink all the way in.
Ty grunted and tried to push against him, but he had no leverage. Zane was gasping with each thump. He growled and bit down on Ty’s shoulder, his teeth dragging over bone. His thrusts grew even more frenzied as he used all his strength, taking more of Ty’s weight.
Ty threw his head back and groaned wantonly. It was as close to getting mauled as he could come. Zane gripped him tight, aiming to bruise, to maim and claim, and bit down harder as his breathing went ragged.
It seemed like Zane was close to coming, and they’d forgotten to keep up their little charade. Ty’d forgotten to make even a peep of complaint over the fake abuse, and Zane had forgotten to abuse.
“God damn it,” he ground out. He kissed Ty again, the heat banking to a low simmer, his thrusts slowing until the swollen head of his cock once again pushed at Ty’s muscles until he wanted to scream for Zane to move. Zane pulled out, loosening his hold. Without the solidity of his body or his hands holding him up, Ty had to thump his foot back to the top step. His entire body throbbed with need and pain and frustration.
He swallowed hard. “What’s wrong,” he managed to ask. “Can’t even finish?”
“Get your ass upstairs,” Zane snarled.
“Or what?”
Zane grabbed his jaw, holding his head still as their eyes met. “Or nothing,” he said, voice pitched just loud enough to be picked up.
Ty gazed into his eyes, a smile growing. “So hot,” he whispered.
Zane’s lips twitched, and he nodded his head toward the stairs.
Ty had to slide against Zane to take the first step up. The way Zane
was looking at him, all fire and desire, sweat dripping down his temples, Ty sort of felt like a squirrel slipping past a big dog. He only made it two steps before Zane’s resolve apparently went up in smoke, and he tackled Ty to the stairs.
Ty grunted when he hit. Zane was on top of him before he could even try to right himself, biting at Ty’s shoulder, dragging his teeth against the skin until he could place a kiss on Ty’s neck.
Ty cursed loudly, struggling to hold back a groan. Zane had a hand on Ty’s hip, pulling Ty’s ass toward him, and his damp belly and chest were pressed against Ty’s back.
The head of his cock pushed against Ty again, his hands digging into Ty’s ribs as he held him still, and he only waited long enough for Ty to push his ass against him before he shoved inside again.
Ty cried out, turning it into an outraged scream for the sake of the bug. Zane’s hand smacked against the step beside Ty’s head, and Ty grabbed for it, holding on as Zane moved inside him, his thighs slapping against Ty’s, his free fingers grasping Ty’s flank and leaving stinging trails behind as he tried to hold Ty’s body still for those brutal thrusts.
Ty raised his head long enough to look up to the doorway where a nice cushy bed was waiting for them. Instead, he was on his fucking knees on the stairs, gripping the iron railing as Zane fucked him into the sharp corners of the steps. Then Zane’s cock hit his prostate, and he screamed.
Zane grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, forcing Ty up onto all fours. Zane kissed his neck, then his ear. “Why haven’t we fucking done this before?” he panted.
“Broken bones,” Ty whispered back, huffing a laugh as Zane buried his face against Ty’s shoulder and groaned.
“You know you fucking love it,” Zane said, voice louder.
Ty gritted his teeth, fighting off the very real pleasure to try to find the right words. “Just get off and get out, for Christ’s sake,” he finally growled.
Zane shook his head. “Not that easy.”
His hand snaked around Ty’s body, groping, lingering in the sweat forming on Ty’s tense muscles. He pulled Ty close, then shoved his weight sideways. He wound up sitting on a step, lounging with his long legs reaching the floor, and Ty straddling him.
His hand closed around Ty’s cock, and he leaned back, taking Ty with him. Ty’s USMC ring clanged when he grabbed for the railing. Zane’s cock boring deeper into him as his weight pushed him down had him close to coming.
“Move,” Zane ordered.
Ty banged his head against Zane’s shoulder. “Go to Hell. You want to get off, you do the work.”
Zane laughed, and though it wasn’t genuine, he did a good job of selling the evil chuckle. He wrapped his slick fingers around Ty’s cock, sliding them around the head and down the shaft.
Ty groaned, not even sure what sound he’d intended to come out. He jutted his hips toward Zane’s hand, moving Zane inside him. “Fuck you, Zane. Fuck you so much,” he murmured, earning a very real, gentle chuckle that he felt against his back.
Zane jacked him harder, forcing his hips to move and his body to contort. He grabbed a handful of Zane’s hair and yanked at him, begging for a kiss. When Zane curled down to deliver, he shifted inside Ty, hitting his prostate again. Ty broke the kiss by shouting Zane’s name against his lips.
“That’s it, Grady, come on!” Zane yelled against Ty’s cheek.
Ty growled for the benefit of the listening devices, and Zane’s grip tightened on his chest, nails digging in.
“Move, Ty, for God’s sake,” Zane pleaded with short, gasping breaths.
Ty shimmied his hips, then dropped down, crying out as he reseated himself. Zane lost his hold on any remaining composure, bucking his hips and pulling Ty back to lie flat with him as he came inside him. Zane’s hand never stopped moving on Ty’s cock, though, and Ty struggled against the coming orgasm. It wouldn’t really sell their fight if he got off in the end. He turned his head toward Zane, desperately seeking anything to muffle the sounds.
Zane clapped a hand over his mouth, and that was all it took. Ty bucked his hips, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping at Zane’s hips and ribs as Zane jacked him through it. He spurted over his stomach and thighs, and his toes curled as he moaned against Zane’s hand.
They were both panting and sweaty when it was over, and Zane was straining beneath him as he tried to keep them both from sliding down the stairs. Ty’s breathing was ragged against Zane’s hand, and Zane let him loose cautiously, as if releasing a wild animal.
Ty arched his back, forcing Zane out of him. They both bit back their groans, and Ty rolled to his belly again.
“Fuck, Garrett,” he said softly.
Zane put his hand to his ear as if he hadn’t heard.
Ty growled, then pushed to his hands and knees. “Fuck!” he shouted. He slammed his hand against a step, and Zane jumped. “Fuck you, Garrett!”
Zane whirled his finger in the air, telling Ty to continue, then pushed himself to his feet and darted to the front door, not making a sound. Ty watched him for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting in on a loud, rambling rant that would cover any sounds Zane made as he moved around the lower floor. He had his bug detector in hand now, moving past all the usual places.
As Ty was bitching loudly about how Zane never did the dishes anyway and fuck him, Zane signaled to an electrical outlet near the kitchen.
“Get your shit, and get out until you can fucking handle yourself, Jesus Christ!” Ty shouted.
“Whatever, Ty,” Zane said as he headed for Ty and the stairs. “Work’s hard enough. I don’t need your whiny bullshit on top of it.” He stopped long enough to grab Ty and kiss him, whispering something unintelligible against Ty’s lips. Then he stomped up the steps.
Ty followed, silent on the balls of his feet. When he reached the landing, Zane indicated the table on Ty’s side of the bed. Ty nodded, then headed back downstairs.
A few minutes later, Zane thumped down the steps, wearing sweatpants and one of Ty’s T-shirts, a gray one with stylized pink writing that read “The 3rd rule of fight club is have fun and try your best.” He had a garment bag and Ty’s go bag full of emergency supplies slung over his shoulder.
Ty pointed at it, frowning. “Mine,” he mouthed.
“Mine now,” Zane said back, smirking as he gave Ty one last kiss and then headed for the kitchen. Their little scene ended with the slamming of the back door and the revving of Zane’s Valkyrie.
Nick O’Flaherty didn’t hear the intruder until he felt someone sit on the end of his bed. He opened his eyes, trying to shake off sleep that felt unnaturally heavy. Something was wrong.
The only two people who visited him regularly and had access to the security on the harbor and keys to his yacht were his partner and his boyfriend. Kelly was sure as hell the only one who’d risk sneaking down here and crawling onto Nick’s bed to wake him. But Kelly was in Colorado, leading a group of at-risk kids from the camp where he worked through the winter wilderness.
“Good morning, darling,” a voice said in the darkness, and that British accent most certainly was not Kelly’s.
Nick reached for the gun beneath his pillow even as Liam Bell laughed and tapped the butt of his gun against his own knee. He was sitting on the corner of the bed with his legs crossed primly, the gun pointed at Nick.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Nick withdrew his hand from under his pillow and raised both palms out toward Liam.
Liam put a finger to his lips and gestured for Nick to sit up. He kept the gun on Nick until Nick was standing in the corner, far enough away that Liam apparently felt comfortable moving.
He reached beneath Nick’s pillow, pulling the gun out first, then Nick’s phone. Nick mentally cursed as Liam held it up, one eyebrow raised. Nick had managed to hit Send on his emergency contact, and the phone was ringing, Kelly’s name and photo on the display.
Liam ended the call just as Nick heard Kelly’s distant voice mail message.
/> “You still tell him the vibration under your head wakes you easier than the noise?” Liam asked. “To explain hiding your phone beneath your pillow? I suppose that’s better than telling him you keep it under there to call for help when I show up, hmm?”
Nick felt the blood draining from his face. “You’ve been listening to us?”
“Only key words. And not even those after the first week or two.”
Nick cleared his throat, torn between embarrassment and rage. “How the fuck?”
“You’re not as paranoid as you used to be. Slipped you a little token of my love in your water filter to make sure you’d sleep nice and hard.” Liam frowned as he jammed Nick’s gun into the back of his jeans. “One thing I didn’t hear while I was listening was the two of you talking about your engagement.”
Nick remained silent, forcing himself not to swallow against the nerves building.
“Do you remember the time after your surgery?” Liam asked, and Nick would have sworn there was concern in his voice.
“Some of it,” Nick admitted.
“But you do remember our deal, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You let the Doc believe you don’t remember proposing?”
Nick’s heart stuttered. That was exactly what he’d done. Kelly had never brought up their conversation, the one where Nick had said, “Marry me,” and meant it with all his heart and soul. Kelly was waiting for Nick to say it again—to say it again sober. And Nick had remained silent.
He’d remained silent because he knew this day was coming.
“Smart,” Liam said with a nod. “My intention here is for both of us to live through this, so don’t go thinking I take pleasure in you breaking his heart or anything.”
“No?”
“You can propose again when we’re done. I promise.”
Nick took a deep, calming breath. “Can we just get to the point of why you’re here and what you want?”
“Of course. Accompany me upstairs, would you? And put some more clothes on.”
Nick rolled his eyes and moved toward the closet. Liam stood back, gun on him. He grabbed a T-shirt, moving slowly, knowing despite Liam’s casual attitude that the man was on a hair trigger. He had the look of someone who’d been on the run for a while. His beard was scraggly, his blond hair a little long. His clothes were dirty, too, and his jeans had holes in the knees. He looked nothing like the man Nick knew.