Under Pressure (No Pressure, No Diamonds Book 1)

by Kara Greenan

“Come on,” Sebastian begs when he returns, fisting his hands in the duvet and arching his back. “You already came. Just let me.”

  “No.” London climbs onto the bed and leans in for a hard kiss.

  “Why not?”

  London ignores him and holds out the condom. “Any preferences?”

  He shakes his head. He doesn’t really have any, likes to think of himself versatile, only right now – well.

  “I don’t think. I mean. Coordinate.”

  London laughs and places his hands on Sebastian’s knees to spread them gently. Then he slips his hips in-between as he uncaps the lube.

  Sebastian can’t help but groan at the feeling of wet fingers at his hole, his head falling back as he arches his back. “Hurry.”

  There’s something else he wanted to say but suddenly his entire body is flooded with sensation, London equally impatient and pushing two fingers in right off the bat. Sebastian moves into it, going a bit mental at the slight burn, at the way London is watching him so intently. It’s like he’s cataloguing every twitch on his face, finds it fascinating the way Sebastian is falling apart so readily. It’s something he’s glad to give to London, he can’t remember the last time he was out of it so quickly. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of the day or the fact he had to wait... maybe it’s London. Or maybe it’s a combination all of it but it feels like a release already, like a knot that’s burst inside of him, opening him up for this.

  London knows exactly what he’s doing, crooking his fingers and having Sebastian panting in not time at all. He rolls his hips, goose bumps popping up on his arms as London starts pulling out and thrusting back in, his thumb reaching out to stroke just under his balls. The spreading of London’s fingers has him arching his back even higher. He feels so fucking full already that the mere thought of London’s cock is making him whine, his legs shamelessly spreading wider.

  “Shh,” London says, reaching out and stopping Sebastian’s head from moving side to side. “You need a minute?”

  “No!” He reaches down, panicked, his fingers wrapping around London’s wrist to keep him from pulling back. “Please don’t stop.”

  London nods, working intently after that, kissing the inside of Sebastian’s thigh and sucking a bruise into his hip when he adds another finger, stretching him more.

  “You want a fourth?”

  “Don’t know,” he gasps out, unable to make that call because he feels lost with the mere prospect of making that choice, any choice. “Please.”

  He scrabbles for support at London’s shoulders, trying to pull him up while grinding down on his fingers.

  London goes easily, giving him a gentle kiss. “Want me to fuck you then?”

  His whole body goes taut at that, back arching right off the mattress and a keening sound coming from his throat. His body feels on fire, London’s fingers in his arse making him feel full and yet not full enough.

  “Yes,” he says, whines, because that’s something he knows for sure. “Now.”

  Before he’s even done speaking, he’s already patting down the bed. He finds a condom and rips it open with his teeth, shoving it at London only to mourn the loss when London pulls his fingers free to roll the condom on.

  “Shh,” London repeats, stretching out on top of him and stroking his brow, his knees wedged in under Sebastian’s thighs so his hips tilt up. His mask is crooked and London gently undoes the strings before dropping the mask over the bed’s edge when it comes free. “Want to see you now.”

  He cries out at the first touch of London’s cock to his hole, almost cries again when London stalls, biting his lip like he’s unsure.

  “Come on.” He palms London’s arse and pulls him closer. He’s slurring the words and doesn’t care, but he manages, “I’m just loud in bed. Get used to it.”

  London laughs, probably out of relief, his forehead resting against Sebastian’s collarbone. But he still pushes on, right past Sebastian’s loud gasp, past the way he has to stretch his torso because he suddenly feels so full.

  By the time London is seated deep inside him they’re both sweaty and panting. He rolls his hips, his own cock rubbing up against London’s belly. “Fuck. Forgot how good this can be.”

  London is swearing into his neck, sucking, bruising kisses into it to distract himself, the muscles in his back shifting under Sebastian’s fingertips with his restraint.

  “Move,” he whispers because he can’t talk any louder, doesn’t have the air for it.

  London gathers him close, arms sliding under his lower back and tilting his hips further as he shuffles closer on his knees.

  Then finally, finally he pulls out and pushes back in, and the last grasp Sebastian had on reality disappears as heat erupts inside him, pushed in deeper by London’s cock. His tries to hold on to London’s back, the duvet, the headboard. He must notice Sebastian’s struggle because he repositions him, hikes both Sebastian's legs higher on his arms — and fuck, fuck, fuck sliding in deeper still. Sebastian lets go completely of trying to keep control of the situation, of trying to catch up, of trying to parse it all together. Instead he lets go and just feels, every powerful thrust of London’s cock, every twist of his hips.

  London is saying things, bent over him while never letting up, things about how Sebastian feels, how he looks, how much that appeals to him. Sebastian can’t make out the words but he gets the meaning, feels his cock aching between them all the harder because of it. He slides his hand between them, watches London suck on his own bottom lip as he wraps his fingers around his cock, tightening up almost immediately as the first ripples of his orgasm spread through his body.

  London grunts, thrusts shallow now, either because he’s close or because Sebastian just tensed up so much. He doesn’t know, can’t worry about that right now, needs to arch, give his orgasm space to expand through him. It hits him hard and uncontrolled, ripping through him in one harsh wave after another, cock pulsing in his hand and painting his chest all the way up to his chin. It’s so intense he completely misses London coming too, vows he’ll watch him through it the next time, something he wants sooner rather than later, feels needy for it while still coming down.

  They collapse in a tangled, messy heap, London panting against his neck like he’s just run a marathon. Sebastian pulls him closer with arms and legs and kisses his sweaty brow.

  “Fuck,” London says, dazed and heartfelt.

  Sebastian laughs, squirms until he slips free. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  They’re silent for a moment, Sebastian soaking up the easy atmosphere, listening to them both trying to catch their breath. He’s smiling dopily up at nothing and that expression doesn’t change when London props himself up on his chin to look at him.

  “You okay?”

  Sebastian just smiles wider. He hasn’t been this okay in maybe ever, so the question seems kind of silly. He reaches up to stroke London’s hair out of his eyes, revels in the way the strands feel between his fingers. “Mm.”

  “Too much for one day?”

  He stretches, feels the looseness in his muscles. “Never. I kind of live for the extreme.”

  “That’s funny,” London says, his finger idly plucking at Sebastian’s pierced nipple. “So do I.”

  Sebastian doesn’t doubt that. The entire day certainly hadn’t thrown London quite as much as it had him. It hadn’t been London who’d fallen apart so readily and eagerly. He thinks that might have something to do with London still holding back, maybe not quite as trusting of this as Sebastian is.

  That’s okay though. Because Sebastian plans to work very hard at convincing him.

  London, present day

  “Avoiding Sebastian is a shitty plan,” Amelia says, looking at him in the mirror while applying the finishing touches to her make up. She applies it every morning religiously and London has had almost half an hour to explain himself since she started.

  “It’s not. It’s practical.”

  She sighs but doesn’t object. Or maybe sh
e’s just tired of hearing him prattle on about this topic.

  “Do you want me to – I don’t know, help you select your shoes?”

  She raises an eyebrow at him through the mirror before getting up and retrieving some strappy and unbelievably high-heeled shoes from her walk-in closet – a walk-in closet that’s roughly the size of London’s first apartment.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He throws his hands up in frustration. “Now I can’t even be the gay best friend with the great fashion advice?’

  She finishes strapping on one shoe. “Stop sprouting clichés. And I have a better fashion sense than you ever will.”

  “I know.” He sighs. ”You look fantastic, by the way.”

  Amelia gets up to check her outfit it the mirror before accepting the compliment graciously. “Thank you.”

  She looks up at him. “You feeling better?”

  “Sure.” He wonders if that’s true.

  “It’s better this way,” she says, her eyes soft. She’s referring to the late night talk they had yesterday, after the bread van incident and emotional roller coaster in the pub afterwards, and the conclusion they’d come to together. It’s the very same conclusion he’d reached on his own, namely to keep his distance from now on. “You’ll find someone else.”

  “Despite the fact I’m a bit insane sometimes?”

  She steps up to him, taller now in her heels and tips his chin up with a perfectly manicured hand. “Because of it. And we’re all a little bit insane, when it comes down to it.”

  A feeling of resolve settles in his gut, buoying his mood considerably. “You go on ahead without me, I need to pick something up on the way.”

  Judging by the look on her face, that must sound more ominous than it really is.

  He laughs. “I just need to change into some fresh clothes. I won’t even be late because of it.”

  When he walks into the meeting twenty minutes late, the statement is still true. He’d arrived home in record time, jumped into the shower and gotten dressed with plenty of time to spare. So much time, in fact, that he’d decided to go buy himself a freshly brewed tea. If the line had been longer than expected, he really couldn’t be blamed.

  He pulls down the ends of his jumper to cover his fingers as he sits down with his legs folded underneath him on the last available armchair. The paper cup is steaming hot, yet just the right amount of warmth through the fabric of his jumper. No one mentions him being late. It’s not like they aren’t used to it. And whatever reaction Sebastian might be having London doesn’t know, because he resolutely ignores his staring. He doesn’t even glance in his general direction.

  “We need to get into the server room before the event,” Frankie says. “Otherwise Hale won’t be able to hack the system.”

  “I can do it,” London says, but Frankie shakes her head.

  “You’d have to go in through the front doors, and I’d rather not have you recognised when you do so for the actual mission.”

  “I can go in at night.”

  She shakes her head again. “Too much security to get around at night, too much that could go wrong. Sebastian, we’ve set you up as the head of an independent evaluation firm. You’ll have access to the heads of the various departments under the guise of evaluating where the company’s internal structure could be tightened to save them money. Will you be able to tweak that to get into the server room?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian says easily, like he doesn’t even need to know the details.

  “How much do you know about computers?” Hale asks when Frankie pulls up photos of the server room.

  “I know how to send an email.”

  London snorts. Funny, he never got one explaining why he was left.

  Hale ignores him and points to one of the pictures, explaining to Sebastian exactly which cables he’ll need to look for to attach the discrete gadget that will intercept the signal. When Frankie goes on to explain their way in, London closes his eyes and curls in on himself. He can totally do this. He hasn’t looked at Sebastian once, has barely thought about him. Well, that’s a lie. His presence is like a floodlight and London feels completely exposed by it. But he sips his tea calmly, listens to the plan Frankie had already discussed with him when debating the best ways in and decidedly does not look at Sebastian.

  This is fine. He can totally do this.

  “Okay,” Frankie says eventually. “Time to book ourselves a flight to Paris.”

  Hale flips open his laptop. “I’ve got everyone’s passports here. Sebastian flew into the country as Mr. Jones, so I took the liberty of commissioning a new passport for you. Congratulations, you’re now Richard Briggs, an investment banker.”

  A chill runs down London’s spine and he looks up at Hale sharply. One of his aliases is Geoffrey Briggs. Hale wouldn’t –

  “You’re finally taking your husband of two years, Geoffrey Briggs,” he points at London, “on a honeymoon.”

  London clenches his teeth. Even Amelia groans. Fuck, why did he leave this planning up to Hale? Sure, he isn’t the best at reading social cues, but surely he’d noticed something? Well, apart from them grinding on each other last night.

  Maybe that hadn’t helped.

  “I, um…” Hale trails off, blushing. “I made us be married, too,” he tells Amelia. “It’s just statistically speaking couples are less scrutinised. If you don’t want then –”

  “It’s fine,” she says, far too quickly. She clears her throat and nods. “That’s perfectly fine.”

  London stands up quickly. “I have to go.”

  “The flight is at six!” Hale shouts after him, as he’s already halfway down the hall.

  That gives him a good five hours. There’s a lot he can do in five hours, a lot of ways to calm himself down.

  He thumbs through his contacts on the lift ride down to the main floor. The call connects just as he’s leaving the building.

  “London! How’s it going?”

  Paul is far too cheerful for his current mood. “You open today? Can you squeeze me in?”

  “I’ve got a bunch of noobs going up at two. Want to come along and scare them, do ya?”

  “I’d love to. See you in a bit.”

  “I’ll have your parachute ready.”

  “Thanks Paul,” he says, disconnecting the call.

  He gets into a random cab waiting at the corner to the south of their building. It’s habit not to take the first one. There are simple ways to make sure your behaviour isn’t predictable, his mentor had hammered that into him early on. Not choosing the first cab in line is one of them.

  “You free for the day?” London asks the surprised cabby. “I’ll give you three hundred up front, and another three hundred if you drop me off at the airport no later than half five.”

  “Err, okay?”

  “Good,” he says and settled into the seat.

  The airport is crowded and London doesn’t even mind. He’s still riding the high of his skydive so for once the mass of people doesn’t bother him to distraction. When someone stumbles into his side and another person takes his moment of weakness to roll their luggage over his toes, he just apologises. He’s British, after all. He finds the others by the check in counter. No one mentions his lateness, but Sebastian gives him a slow once-over, his brows furrowing until someone pushes their way past him. He pats his shirt down carefully, glaring at the young man heading away at break-neck speed. If that had been London, he’d now be holding Sebastian’s wallet. He should lift it, just so he doesn’t get rusty.

  "Public airlines are disgusting," Sebastian says and he’s never sounded more like a snob.

  Frankie pats his back while they shoulder their way to the check in counter. "You're booked first class, don't worry."

  "That's probably not good enough for him. He's used to private planes."

  “It’s true,” Sebastian admits, slanting him another look. “Can't help it if people want to spend their money on me."

  Ye
ah, because he doesn’t con them into it or anything. London doesn’t take the bait, instead stepping up behind Hale and jumping on his back. His arms wrap around his neck and he burrows his face in his neck.

  "Where's your luggage?" Sebastian asks.

  "Oh crap. Almost forgot." He points in the direction of the lost and found. “Onwards good steed!”

  “I’m not carrying you around.”

  “Why not? Am I too heavy?”

  “Yes,” says Amelia. “It’s your ego, it’s weighing you down.”

  He slides off Hale’s back.

  “Fine. I can go by myself.” He takes a few steps before spinning around, raising his voice to be heard over the airport noise. “Also I’m a delight to be around and you know it!”

  Amelia rolls her eyes. He sees Sebastian leaning into Frankie’s side, asking her something while nodding in his direction. London turns on his heels and heads for the lost and found. It doesn’t take him long, a good ten minutes later he’s done, a small black bag in tow. They’re seated in a small waiting area, Hale with a tiny but impressive looking laptop open, typing away furiously. Amelia is sitting next to him, legs crossed and one of her killer heels touching Hale’s leg from time to time.

  Sebastian is deep in discussion with Frankie and he can’t help but feel bothered by it.

  “Ready?” Frankie asks when she notices him.

  “Yup. Got my luggage.”

  “Nothing in there that might get you in trouble, is there?”

  London feels slightly offended. “No, I checked.”

  "You checked?” Sebastian keeps looking from the luggage to him. "Did you honestly just steal someone's luggage because you forgot your own?"

  London struggles with the handle, finally managing to push it down.

  "I didn't forget," he says while flopping down next to him. "Anything I'd need to take would probably raise eyebrows."

  As is on cue, Sebastian's eyebrow rises. "Like what?"

  London jumps up, full of unbridled energy.

  "Wouldn't you like to know, Walker?" He claps his hands. "Can we check in now? I’m bored."

  “We were waiting for you,” Frankie says mildly. She gets up, adjusting her trackies and pulling her beanie right down over her ears.