In Safe Hands

by Victoria Sue

  “Depends who drew it, I guess,” Deacon said as he steered Maverick through the kitchen. “I was never very good at geometry.”

  Maverick’s lips twitched again, but he let himself be led. Deacon, at least, seemed able to navigate a straight line upstairs.

  Chapter Twelve

  WHAT WAS it about this man that gave him so much confidence? Deacon should be a basket case. He had, in fact, gone from nearly crying all over Mav to basically ordering him upstairs in the blink of an eye.

  It was the kiss. Deacon was a goner for a good kiss. Not that he had much experience of really good kissing, but having Maverick’s strong hands roam over his back and smooth out what seemed to be every jagged edge inside him made him instantly want more. And he wasn’t stupid. He knew the kisses were only promises of a good time, but at the moment, the thought of a good time—a great one—without hurting anyone else was exactly what he needed. Maverick definitely walked easier and the strain around his eyes was less, but he needed another massage, and that in itself wasn’t a cure-all.

  It was his fault Maverick hadn’t—

  No, no it wasn’t. Maverick’s PT or lack of it wasn’t his fault, and he had to stop assuming blame for everything. Just because other people had blamed him for so long didn’t mean they were right all the time.

  They got in the bedroom, and Maverick gently turned him around. “One thing.” Deacon moved in closer, but Maverick stopped him and dropped a kiss on Deacon’s head. “I can hear the gears in that head of yours turning. If they’re in a different direction to what they were downstairs, or you want—”

  Deacon lunged, and Maverick caught him. He fastened needy lips on warm ones and simply took what he wanted. What he craved. Maverick stilled in shock for a second, and then Deacon heard the groan of surrender, and Maverick took the kiss and made it his own. He might be unsteady with his leg, but Maverick’s arms and lips worked just fine, and Deacon melted into them.

  Before Deacon knew what was even happening, Maverick had taken his own shirt off, and eager to comply, Deacon simply lifted his arms up. Deacon ran his hands over the burned skin on his neck and collarbone. “Does it hurt?” He bent and kissed it gently.

  “Not really,” Mav admitted. “My face got the worst, and I have to slather moisturizer on that. I don’t grow hair on the scars either.”

  Deacon—feeling brave—continued his gentle exploration of Maverick’s scars. “I thought flight suits were supposed to protect you.”

  “It did,” Maverick admitted. “Not that it would have protected my face, but it was so damn hot, I risked an Article 15.”

  “Which is?”

  “A reprimand. Anything from a slap on the knuckles to a reduction in rank. I guess they thought the injury was punishment enough,” he said.

  “What did you do?”

  “I lowered my zipper.”

  Deacon’s lips parted, and Maverick smirked. “Not that sort of zipper. The one on my flight suit. It’s supposed to be closed to three inches below the neckline. It was more like seven or eight, so it was my own fault.” Deacon cupped the side of Maverick’s face, and Maverick’s brown eyes deepened. “Does it not bother you?”

  Deacon let his eyes roam obviously up and down. “All this awesomeness in one package?” He snickered. “Actually….” He leaned in and hooked Maverick’s waistband with one hand, and with the other, traced the line of Maverick’s lips until Maverick caught his finger in between them and sucked. The involuntary shudder that ran down his body was delicious. “There is something wrong with these.”

  Maverick smiled and let his finger go. “What?”

  “Too much talking and not enough kissing.”

  Maverick bent his head, and all thoughts of protest disappeared. Deacon carefully unzipped Maverick’s pants, and they broke free from each other for a minute while Deacon stepped out of his own, but then he realized Maverick had to sit down to get out of his. Deacon tugged him to the bed, and he sat, then leaned down to pull off his pants.

  “Let me,” Deacon begged, and obediently Maverick lifted his hand away. Meeting Mav’s eyes, he carefully tugged at Maverick’s waistband and saw the flash of uncertainty as Maverick allowed Deacon to undress him. “Oh my.”

  Maverick shrugged.

  “You’re not wearing anything,” Deacon said unnecessarily as Maverick’s cock lay thickening against his leg. Maverick arched a brow, but his hesitation seemed to have subsided.

  Deacon took in the mouthwatering sight. He trailed his fingers over Maverick’s inner thigh, remembering the reaction from last time, and Maverick moaned and widened his legs. How had he gotten this lucky? Or was he? The thought that Maverick might be paying him attention because he thought his current choices were limited was a sobering one. He would just have to make himself be memorable, and with his goal in mind, Deacon bent and followed his fingers with his lips.

  Maverick’s cock jumped as Deacon closed his eyes, and Deacon felt the reaction in his own. He kissed and nibbled the skin at the side of Deacon’s knee and up the softer skin of Deacon’s thigh until he got as high as his groin but deliberately skated over that part and gave his other leg his attention. He walked his fingers down to where he felt the first scar, and Maverick suddenly clamped his wrist. Deacon opened his eyes and looked up. “Did I hurt you?”

  Maverick shook his head and swallowed, and Deacon understood. Very gently he wiggled his wrist out of Maverick’s hold and bent his head all the while keeping eye contact. Deacon had paid attention and pressed the button releasing the suction. The leg and liner came next, and Deacon pushed Maverick until he scooted back. He breathed the gentlest kiss he could on the end of Maverick’s residual and smiled. Not speaking, simply peppering small kisses all over the scar tissue until he noticed Maverick’s eyes had become very bright, and he had to swallow again. Satisfied he’d banished that particular ghost, he closed his eyes and kissed higher until he got to Maverick’s groin.

  The breathy moans from Maverick were getting louder, and Deacon closed his fingers around Maverick’s very erect cock. “You’re so hot,” he murmured and continued to mouth the delicate skin. His fingers brushed the tip and came back wet, so he used the precum to help the slide of his hand.

  And then it wasn’t enough, and he had to taste him. He shuffled higher, and at the first touch of his tongue, Maverick groaned loudly. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Maverick whimpered, and Deacon hummed in pleasure, snaking his other hand down the front of his shorts to wrap his fingers around his own.

  “You are way too good at this,” Maverick gasped out as Deacon hollowed his cheeks and drew back, swallowing around the thick length. “Deacon, you have to stop,” Maverick begged.

  He drew off and opened his eyes. “Why?”

  Mav took a hurried breath. “Because I don’t want it to be over with that soon.”

  And faster than Deacon ever thought he could move, he was on his back and Maverick was looking down on him. “Top, bottom, or neither?” Deacon asked lightly, but he knew he wasn’t fooling Maverick for one second.

  “Any way I can have you,” Maverick replied, pulling at Deacon’s shorts. He paused and glanced up. “Seriously, I’ve done both.” He winced. “Though not for a while.”

  Deacon huffed. “It’s not been anytime recently for me either.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Maverick murmured and bent to suck on Deacon’s nipple, and Deacon arched as the frisson of pleasure ran straight to his cock.

  Maverick made an approving noise and felt for Deacon’s length and wrapped his large fingers around it. Deacon squirmed helplessly. “Not fair,” he gasped and felt the rumble of laughter in Maverick’s chest. By the time Maverick had finished with his other nipple, Deacon was barely holding on to any shred of control.

  He wanted to finish the blow job he had started, but when Maverick closed his lips around his cock, he was done. He lost himself in a maelstrom of heat and pleasure unlike he had ever felt before, and when his orgasm slammed int
o him, he was helpless to do anything other than cry out and hold on.

  Deacon concentrated on breathing while he floated, not especially in a hurry to surface until he became aware that Maverick had moved and had tucked him in close, murmuring sweet nonsense words and kissing him lightly. But as awareness returned, so did the thought that Maverick was still hard. Deacon bit his lip. He knew what he desperately wanted to happen, but Maverick might not like that. He’d seen it a million times online….

  “What is it?”

  Deacon opened his eyes, startled.

  “Your breathing changed. One minute, you were floating on all those endorphins, and the next second, reality checked in.” Maverick sighed and sat up. “This doesn’t have to be weird.”

  “No,” Deacon nearly shouted and grabbed Maverick’s wrist. Now or never. “I wanted to do something—well, you to do something—but it’s totally okay—”

  Maverick silenced him with a finger across his lips. His eyes were shining in anticipation. “What?”

  Deacon opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he pressed his lips together.

  “Hey.” Maverick cupped his face. “You saw my scars. I don’t think you have anything that’s going to frighten me.”

  “I wanna watch,” Deacon blurted out. Maverick looked confused, and then a slow smile spread over his face.

  “You want to watch me jerk off?”

  Deacon swallowed but nodded. He was dying inside, but his cock was interested in the idea. “So, let me get this straight, or not,” Maverick added with a smirk. “You want me to take my hand and rub myself until I shoot?” Deacon forgot to breathe. Maverick watched him intently. “Or even better, shoot all over you?”

  Deacon might have made a noise, he wasn’t honestly sure. Maverick traced his jawline with his finger. “Your pupils dilated. That’s exactly what you want, huh? What you need?”

  Deacon whined. Speech, actual coherent words, was beyond him, and his cock gave a valiant jerk. “And do you like the way I talk to you? Or are you a strong and very silent type?”

  “Talk,” Deacon managed to get out before he died from a lack of oxygen because he didn’t seem able to inflate his lungs.

  Maverick hummed to himself and rolled onto his side. Deacon shuffled lower down in breathless anticipation. He had seen this online, but nothing had prepared him for the real thing. Maverick rolled on his back and opened the top drawer in his nightstand. He smiled and brought out the lube. “Believe it or not, my sister bought this for me on one of her shopping trips. She told me she’d stashed it hoping that would make me climb the stairs.”

  Maverick rolled back and flipped the top. “I like a smooth ride.” And Deacon nearly swallowed his tongue. Mav trickled a little on his hand and leaned over and smoothed it over Deacon’s rapidly hardening length. “Damn, good recovery time,” he murmured and glanced at Deacon. “I want you to touch yourself while you watch.” Maverick watched the effect his words were obviously having on Deacon. “Why have I never realized before how much of a turn-on this would be?”

  A shard of something kind of like jealousy pierced Deacon. He didn’t like the thought of Maverick realizing anything with someone else. Maverick smiled again but didn’t comment, and he closed his eyes, his slick hands around his cock. Deacon’s moan was as loud as Maverick’s, and he rolled his balls in his fingers, not taking his eyes away from the glorious sight in front of him for one minute.

  “I have things I like,” Mav murmured, his voice deep and low and doing all sorts of funny things to Deacon’s insides. “I love when I smooth my palm over the tip and scratch the side of my nail under the head.” He opened his eyes and stared at Deacon. “Sometimes a little pain brings a whole lot of pleasure.”

  Deacon licked suddenly dry lips.

  “Roll your balls in your fingers, feel the weight,” he directed, and Deacon obeyed. The instruction, the order, making things so much more intense.

  “Oh yeah,” Maverick said and pulled the skin down until it was taut. “I like to squeeze a little and twist my hand when I get to the bottom.”

  Deacon could feel the ache start in his groin.

  “Then I like to speed up. Sometimes push my nail right in the slit. Oh fuck,” Mav growled, and Deacon’s cock throbbed. “But what really makes it amazing is when I lie on my back and use one hand on my cock and the other in my ass. Just a finger, but it’s incredible.” He looked at Deacon. “I think you should.” And he reached out for the lube and drizzled some more first on Deacon’s hand and then on his own.

  “I’m not going on my back because when I shoot, it’s gonna be all over you.”

  Deacon gasped and moaned. What he was seeing, what he was hearing, rendered him incapable of any thought other than doing exactly as he was told.

  “I’m close,” Mav groaned. “I can feel the heat starting in my balls and the base of my spine. It’s starting. Getting pressure. I have to jerk faster, squeeze harder. Can’t stop. I’m coming. Fuck, it’s coming.”

  And it was. Deacon was. He gasped in shock and bone-deep pleasure as cum erupted from Maverick and coated Deacon’s chest and throat. He even had some of his own spurt in his hand, which he would have said impossible so soon after coming once already.

  “Fuck,” Maverick repeated eloquently and collapsed onto his back, continuing to rub himself for a few more seconds to finish. Maverick rolled his head to look at Deacon, satisfaction etched on his face.

  Deacon sighed happily. That was him, and he hadn’t realized how satisfying contentment could be until he knew he was responsible for it in another person.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE MAN knocked once on the kitchen door, confident of his welcome. Preparation and planning. That was what it amounted to, and really, she was pathetic. In love with what he was as much as the attention. The air of desperation sat on her as unattractive as the shapeless dress she wore. He’d originally intended on three and done, but the urge to make more of a statement had been too hard to resist. He mused, you could always class it as a public service. People this brainless shouldn’t ever be responsible for children.

  He’d followed Daniels yesterday more out of curiosity than anything else, but when he’d seen what the pathetic runt was doing, he’d gone and taken the first car he’d come across, like candy. He was getting bored, which would never do. Bored people made mistakes. He’d let his temper rule his actions yesterday and that could have cost him.

  Now, what to do with her? The possibilities were endless. “You sure we are alone?”

  She nodded. Indecision and longing written all over her face. “They’re catching a flight out of Hartsfield tonight direct. They’ve gone with Molly to get a passport and left me to pack for her. Mrs. Taylor has the day off.” She bit her lip, possibly thinking it was somehow alluring. “I don’t have to go.” The words were so hopeful.

  “You won’t be going,” he said and stepped closer, inhaling the distasteful scent of whatever cheap perfume she had bathed in obviously for him.

  “I-I won’t?” Her smile grew.

  He shook his head and uncapped the syringe in his pocket. “How long do you think we have before they get back?”

  “Oh at least a couple of hours,” she answered quickly, eagerly. “Should I call them so they don’t get me a ticket?”

  He moved quickly to kiss her neck, and she sagged against him. Plunging the needle in was easier than it should have been.

  He let her drop to the floor where she lay unable to move, and carefully, slowly, undid his belt buckle where she could watch. Her dazed green eyes changed to wide and terrified ones.

  DEACON STRETCHED every blissful bone in his body, which was challenging because the larger body he was nearly wrapped up in didn’t like him moving.

  Maverick grunted. “You’re like a cat.”

  Which was quite accurate because Deacon could happily start purring anytime soon.

  They both heard the sound of the front door opening at the same time. “Mav?�
�� a woman shouted.

  Maverick swore, and Deacon sat bolt upright. “It’s Jamie,” he groaned. “I’m just going in the shower,” he shouted back. “Put the coffee on.”

  “I thought she’d broken her ankle,” Deacon whispered, and Maverick sat up.

  “That’s not gonna stop her.” They both heard a man’s voice and the door closing, then footsteps going to the kitchen. “I guess Richards brought her.”

  “Was that the friend you mentioned?”

  Mav nodded. “Yeah, but I think he wants more. My brother-in-law had a midlife crisis quite spectacularly three months ago and ran off with another woman. Jamie’s strong, but they’d been married twenty years. You can’t get over something like that so quickly.”

  “And you’re the expert?” Deacon grinned suddenly, not as shy as he thought he would be. “I need a shower,” he confided. They’d cleaned up hurriedly last night and changed the sheets, but then they’d lazed in bed, and Deacon had brought snacks upstairs. He had passed out pretty quickly after that, which was good because he had no idea what to say to someone after the best sex of his life. He chuckled, and Mav looked amused at him as he reached for his leg.

  “I’ll go down and see what’s up. You take your time.” And then to Deacon’s delight, Maverick leaned forward to grab a kiss, which thrilled him. He had been worried it would either be awkward or back to business this morning, and Deacon was so pleased it obviously wasn’t going to be.

  Deacon made a show of reluctantly letting go, to which Maverick answered by nipping Deacon’s bottom lip with his teeth. Which didn’t have the effect Maverick intended; Deacon still wasn’t out of bed when Maverick left the room.

  MAVERICK WALKED into the kitchen just in time to see Richards carefully balance Jamie’s foot on a cushion covering one of the chairs. She beamed up at him. “Where’s Deacon?”