by Mighty Men
If Nate wanted Donovan dead, he would’ve at least died with an erection. Maybe then he could’ve entered the next life raring to go.
“I know where your head was,” Nate growled, returning to his walk on the beach.
Donovan quickly caught up and strolled beside him. For several minutes, the men sauntered across the small stretch of beach in silence.
“I requested a move,” Nate said, stopping in front of a larger cabana and eyeing the swing on the porch. He took the steps two at a time and sat down.
Donovan met his gaze with a challenge. “I thought you didn’t like to go against orders or change plans.”
Nate placed his palms on the wooden bench seat. “I don’t take orders from those who place unnecessary hits on my life. We’re sitting targets in that bungalow.”
“We’re open season if we remain in this resort.”
“I’m not running,” Nate said.
“If not, why not stay down the beach in our hut?”
“I don’t like cramped spaces.”
“You didn’t seem to mind before,” Donovan said.
“I’m not sleeping in a bed with a woman.”
“Again, it apparently didn’t bother you yesterday.”
Nate shifted, smiled and grated out all at once. “I’m not a woman’s man, Collier.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
Nate narrowed his gaze and studied Donovan’s groin. God, yeah, the man sported a thick dick. He didn’t require a reminder. He remembered the swell of his erection under the weight of his body when he immobilized him the day before.
Donovan tilted his head toward the front door. “Open it.”
Nate leaned back in the swing and crossed his arms. “And if I do, what are you going to do? Kill me or fuck me?”
“Maybe both,” Donovan said, working his game.
Pushing himself up, Nate walked toward the entrance. He turned the knob. “It’s unlocked. Go ahead. Go inside.”
“You first,” Donovan said, extending his arm.
“Ah, no, sweetheart,” Nate said. “Trust is everything. You have to trust me if you’re in my bed.”
“Why? So I can look at you like Colby does?”
Nate arched his brow. “How’s that?”
“Anyone can see he has strong feelings for you. Anyone except, well, maybe you.”
“Colby and I have a past,” he stated flatly. “Colby has nothing to do with me and you.”
“And I’m supposed to trust a man who received a shoot to kill order specifically for me?”
“We both picked up the same assignment,” Nate reminded him. “You could kill me as easily as I could dispose of you. We’re evenly matched.”
“Hmm...” Donovan said. “I imagine you had a tough time accepting the truth?”
“The truth is, we’re equals in physical strength,” Nate corrected him. “But I have a lot of experience, and I doubt you’ll find many ISOs with my level of expertise.”
“In the field or in the bedroom?”
“Both,” Nate said, walking inside first.
Donovan followed. From there, Nate quickly took the lead.
* * * *
Donovan fell for Nate about as quickly as he imagined Colby might have. No two ways about it. The man eating him alive knew how to work his fellows.
Nate’s mouth opened but didn’t close over his. He nipped at his lips and then sucked his bottom lip between sharp teeth. Eagerly, he pulled him into a covetous kiss, and Donovan’s hand went to Nate’s cock.
Stroking through the soft material, Donovan moved his palm up and down the growing length Nate kept tucked away in his pants. He should’ve been licensed to use a cock like the one he possessed between those muscular legs.
“That’s it,” Nate said. “Get me going. Stroke me right.”
Hell yeah, Donovan understood what Nate wanted. He would give him every drip and drop of satisfaction he could muster.
Fiddling with Nate’s zipper, Donovan freed his length. God help him, he wanted to kneel down and let Nate’s thick dick part his lips, but Nate was full of surprises. An exceptional kisser, Nate delivered the kind of attention Donovan longed for, and a smart soldier never left his assigned post in the midst of an outright assault, especially one triggering so much heat and pleasure.
Nate cupped his neck and made him want more, everything, and yet nothing else but this. Nate’s tongue scraped over his own, and Donovan moaned, allowing Nate’s erection to tap against his denim covered cock.
Holding his head between his palms, Nate said, “Unzip. Let me feel your cock against my leg.” Then, he kissed him deeper.
A few seconds later, Donovan stepped out of the confinement of his clothing. He moved closer, allowing the shape of his penis to press against the shaft of Nate’s dick.
Donovan reached between their bodies with his left hand. He wrapped his fingers around Nate’s size, stroking him quickly and enjoying the way his flesh rolled into his working, aggressive hand. His thumb smoothed over Nate’s swollen mushroom head, and Nate practically growled into their kiss.
“Are you gonna be the death of me, big man?” Nate asked, grinning.
“I may just give you new life,” Donovan promised. Then he dropped to his knees.
* * * *
Nate grabbed the base of his dick and tried to move away from Donovan’s sucking. Good Lord, the man used a suction like no other.
Licking the top of Nate's dick, Donovan looked up and winked. “Don’t go anywhere. I want you to come.”
Nate didn’t care about anything else after Donovan urged him forward. He took one step toward Donovan, moving back into the blowjob of a lifetime.
Donovan reached under Nate’s scrotum and tapped his balls. Like a rocket, only faster, his ejaculation pressed through his veins and spilled onto a willing tongue. Hammering closer to his goals, Nate tapped Donovan’s tonsils, and Donovan swallowed and swallowed.
Gripping his ears, Nate pounded Donovan’s throat. The head of his penis swelled again and again, over and over, as his cum sprayed hot.
“God, yeah,” Nate said, changing his stance and wiggling his ass to free every sensation found through oral pleasure.
When he finished, he dropped to his knees, and Donovan embraced him. Donovan didn’t act like he expected something in return but as if Nate were a frightened soldier afraid to see what the future held, he closed his eyes and remembered. He reflected on a different time when another strong man cradled him.
Colby Carrington never let go.
Donovan might.
No, Nate thought. Donovan would.
Chapter Eleven
Donovan was a goner from the initial how-do-you-do. From the moment he joined Nate in the taxi, he understood his destiny. Nate Francisco had him at the airport. He held on from their initial
introductions, no matter how lame they were, and Nate now owned him—heaven help him—completely.
Nate released him and started to stand.
“Don’t,” Donovan said, almost pleading.
Nate’s lips curved in a smile. “You want some more of me?”
Donovan stroked himself. Yes, he wanted more. He longed for more than he ever expected to want from another ISO. He needed more than he ever desired in the past.
“Let me fuck you,” Donovan said, astonished he made the request and feeling the heat lick at his skin while he waited for Nate’s reaction.
“A cock won’t fit in this tight ass, lover.”
Like hell. Donovan highly doubted that one. Nate was all but fucked now.
Pressing his lips to the inside of Nate’s thigh, he sucked the skin. Trailing up and down his leg, his tongue swiped at Nate’s clammy flesh. Higher and lower, his mouth remained committed to contact.
He teased until he couldn’t torment anymore. Then he pulled Nate forward, bracing himself for all a man could stand.
Nate pushed him to the floor. With his back against the ground, Donovan closed his eyes an
d wondered what bottoming for a man like the one leaning over him now would feel like. He’d always been the one who fucked. A man’s dick never stroked the inside of his ass, and only one other man knew what it felt like to have his mouth around him—Darby Winslow.
The tip of Nate’s cock pressed against his ass cheek, and Donovan cursed, moaned, and rolled over, reaching for his pants.
“I want to fuck you,” Donovan told him again.
Expecting a man like Nate to either put up a fight or deny him altogether, he was surprised when Nate pulled two condoms from his wallet. The foil wrappers from both went to his lips, and he tore open the packets.
Catching the tossed rubber, Donovan did not sheath himself but watched while Nate rolled the added protection over his cock.
Beautiful and sexy, Nate proudly stood on display. A wicked smile, a devilish expression Donovan realized he’d never tire of seeing, washed over Nate’s chiseled cheeks.
Suited up and ready to play, Nate towered over him and pushed Donovan’s legs apart. Keeping one hand against the floor next to his head, he stroked Donovan’s penis. Up and down, leisurely, he maneuvered his closed fist around his cock until Donovan wanted to come, needed to get off worse than he craved his next breath of air.
“Let me,” Donovan said gruffly. “Let me take you.”
* * * *
Nate reared back and looked at him. Perhaps he saw him for the very first time, as a lover of genuine interest. Donovan’s good looks made him stand out in a crowd, but of equal interest, something hard to ignore, was his intelligence. The man intrigued him, and the buried mysteries wouldn’t easily unfold.
Colby would never forgive him. In all their time together, Colby never fucked him. Nate had a thing about taking dick up the ass. Sure, he was always curious. Since he had some reservations about Donovan and whether or not he intended to play them, he might give him what he wanted—for the sake of the job, of course.
Donovan wanted a piece of his ass and he wanted it bad. Maybe if Nate let him have what he desired, gave him his way, then he’d seal the deal and make a committed partner out of him.
There was only one way to find out.
* * * *
Donovan kissed him with passion, and he regretted the kiss almost instantly. Nate would see his quick advantage. Was Nate using him? No doubt. Sure, he was. Sex would make him an easier kill regardless of the lust running wild between them.
Nate took his hand and led him through a short hallway. He nudged the door open with his foot.
Donovan sat down, and Nate dropped to the floor. Surprised, Donovan gasped when Nate took his cock in between his hands and gave him quite possibly the most erotic hand job of his lifetime.
Donovan leaned on the bed, arching his back and stretching his neck in order to watch. Nate dropped his lips and covered Donovan's swollen head, licking the tip, the spongy texture of his tongue drawing out the pre-cum in a sticky wash of excitement.
“Let me,” Donovan pleaded, leaning his head back and clutching the condom Nate more or less gave him as a cookie, a sweet temptation of things within his reach. “God, please, Nate. Let me.”
Nate stood then, using his knees to part Donovan's legs and stand between them. Donovan sat up, and Nate turned around.
Donovan swallowed hard when realization struck. Of course he would let him. Donovan quickly rolled the condom over his heavily veined erection and pulled Nate toward him. His chest pressed to Nate’s back allowing body-to-body access, and he nipped at his flesh. The excitement continued building and building.
Nate eased all the way down over Donovan’s prick. He did the guiding. He took the easy lead.
Donovan sank into his ass and sighed. “Ah, yeah, buddy. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Nate didn’t move. He seemed lifeless at the first point of entry.
Then Donovan started to thrust. Soon he hammered in between the firm, tight globes of one very masculine, fresh, virgin ass.
* * * *
Nate didn’t mind taking cock like he once feared. In fact, he enjoyed the connection. His bottom felt tight, and with every layer of skin Donovan pressed beyond, Nate felt more and more stimulated. His nerve endings on fire, he blazed hot from the inside out and needed to come worse than he ever remembered.
“Hurry,” he urged. Hell, yeah, he wanted him to hurry. Once he was done, he planned to fuck Donovan’s lights out.
Donovan shifted, rolling over him. Nate’s face soon pressed into a pillow Donovan had thrown down before he pushed him forward.
Dragging Nate’s hips upward, Donovan clobbered him with good loving. “Feels good?”
God, yeah. “Finish,” Nate growled.
In and out, he stroked. Harder and harder, he pounded between Nate's cheeks until all of a sudden, he screamed out his release. Nate bucked violently against him, determined to help him find his pleasure.
When Donovan collapsed on his back, Nate rolled over. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Nate framed his face and kissed him. Donovan’s tongue tasted like a volatile lifeline, one he feared might snap at any moment.
Nate didn’t waste time analyzing why. Instead, he looked into Donovan's eyes, fisted his cock, spread his partner’s legs with his own, and pushed his cock deep inside his tight ass. Then, he fucked him rough and wild, refusing to break free of the entrancing gaze they held the entire time.
* * * *
Darby Winslow paced the floor of his small quarters in the psychiatric unit. His father wanted to see him. He planned to stop by the facility around one o’clock, and the timekeeper he kept bedside continued to remind of the hour.
“Darby?” A nurse appeared in his doorway. “Your father is here.”
He nodded, and she stepped aside. Admiral Thomas Shoemaker used his clout and appointments to enjoy private visits with his son. Most guests were restricted, and very few family members paid visits to the rooms of resident patients.
“Dad,” Darby said, raising his gaze to meet his father’s.
“Darby,” he began. “How are you today?”
They always started their visits the same way. Darby anticipated his father’s arrival with pure dread. Then, he’d come in and quickly assess his room conditions and inquire about how he felt as if he checked on him every other day.
Darby couldn’t remember the last time he saw his father. He spoke to him on the phone a few weeks back and had been distraught ever since.
“Dad, I need to see Donovan.”
His father winced at the request and refused to acknowledge his son’s plea. The visible distress tightened his cheeks, and his jaw tensed in mere tolerance.
Looking around, he said, “I like what they’ve done to your room. I spoke to your mother last week and told her they recently painted this wing. The pastels brighten the place up, don’t you think?”
Darby glared at him. “I don’t care about colors.”
“Or your mother? You haven’t asked about her since you’ve been here.”
No, and he wouldn’t. If his mother had remained quiet, then he wouldn’t have known the sheer hell of having a father like the great Admiral Shoemaker. He wouldn’t spend his time in a locked down psychiatric facility because of what his father called “his despicable gay orientation.” He wouldn’t have to take meds at nine, noon, and three. He would be completely free.
“Tell me about Donovan,” he urged, grasping his father’s forearm.
His father shook him off and then walked over to the dresser. Glaring at the photograph of Donovan and Darby, he said, “I told the nurses you could keep one picture of you and Donovan Collier. I’ve decided it’s not healthy. I’ll take this one with me when I leave.” He picked the frame up and then set it down again.
Darby glared through the haze of a drug-induced state of confusion. Why did his father hate him so much? He shook his head and then sat on the edge of the only chair in the room.
“I know you think you’re going to spend the rest of your life i
n here, Darby. You have shown signs of improvement. I can’t help but feel relief and even some measure of pride.”
Darby swallowed. Relief and pride? Darby knew better. Oddly, in the ten years his father had known about him, he never mentioned pride. He never said anything before because the shame overshadowed other emotions he might have allowed himself to experience.
“I love him. If you still believe love is a sickness, then I pity you, Dad.”
His father stormed forward and bellowed out, “What the hell do you know about love, son? That,” he pointed to the photograph, “is... not... love!”
Darby looked away, the medication stumping his intellectual abilities. His fight soon disappeared. “It’s the only love I want,” he told him quietly. “The only one I’ll ever need.”
“And I want more for you. I don’t want you to wither away, shunned, because your life is lived under stigmas and pretenses. When I reintroduce you to the world, you won’t know what it feels like to see your friends turn their backs while you overhear the cruelty of snickers and whispers. You’ll stand proud and tall, an admiral’s son.”
“An admiral’s son?” Darby said on a sudden thought, though most definitely aloud.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “You’ll make us both proud when you can stand with me.”
“And what about Donovan?” Darby whispered. His eyelids grew heavy, and he stumbled forward, searching for the bed.
The admiral didn’t offer a reply. His father’s large form towered over him while sleep tugged him into a familiar blackness, one he visited regularly throughout the course of his days. The medication he’d been given hours earlier snuffed out the daylight and any resemblance of the pain he often found in consciousness.