by L. A. Witt
Yeah, Nate.
Why not?
* * *
In a clean, comfortable set of blue camouflage utilities—a uniform he hadn’t spent the day sweating his dick off in—Nate got a cup of coffee and joined the rest of the squadron for the briefing. The CO was there. Yay. Because he wasn’t the most long-winded gasbag in the entire Navy. Fuck.
Ah well. Nate had coffee and he’d had a long, hot shower. He couldn’t complain all that much.
He and Jon took their usual seats in a couple of hard plastic chairs next to Taxi and Recon, a couple of their squadron mates.
The briefing was as dry as ever. More changes to standard operating procedures, which meant someone had been promoted recently and was on a power trip. Always happened with senior enlisted, and both junior and senior officers. Give them a little authority and they wanted to turn everything on its ear. Not to actually make things more efficient, but to give them a bullet point for their eval when it came time for that next promotion. The Navy had this weird idea that leadership could be distilled to “saw a problem, made a change,” even if that problem didn’t actually exist and the change made things worse.
Nate actually dreaded the point in his career when he started flying a desk. Then he’d have to deal with all that leadership crap. Fuck that. He could barely keep Jon in line.
“Lieutenant Commander Chandler.”
He jumped, both from being startled out of his thoughts and the sound of his married name.
Clearing his throat, he sat up a little straighter. “Yes, sir?”
“I’ve got a RIO on leave in another squadron,” the CO said. “Any chance you can fill in for a couple of night ops next week?”
Nate nodded. “Can do, yeah.”
“Perfect. I’ll have Commander Clarke contact you by tomorrow. You don’t hear anything from her, let me know.”
“Will do.”
The briefing continued, and Nate kept gritting his teeth over the reference to his soon-to-be-gone last name. It made his skin crawl so much, he might as well have still been in his cold, sweaty, flight suit.
On the bright side, only the CO and a handful of other people ever used that name. Everyone in the squadron referred to each other by their ranks or call signs. Nate was perfectly content to be called Lieutenant Commander or his call sign, Screws. Beat the fuck out of being called Chandler.
Nate scowled. He was itching to change his name back. The request would be on the petition when they filed for divorce, but they couldn’t even file yet. Not until they’d been separated for six damn months.
A quickie divorce might’ve been the way to go, but Caleb was a lawyer, so Nate had decided it would be prudent to get an attorney of his own and go through all the motions. He didn’t particularly trust Caleb anymore and really didn’t want to give him the upper hand with this. As it was, Caleb had already convinced him to file for a no-fault divorce. Which . . . fine. The adultery had been the catalyst for their separation, but it didn’t seem necessary to drag that into the courtroom. All Nate wanted was a clean break so he could go on. Caleb—and ultimately Nate’s own attorney—said that bringing adultery into it would only make the proceedings go on longer. Plus, Nate would have to prove Caleb had cheated, and wasn’t it just his luck he’d been too stunned at the sight of Caleb having sex with another man to whip out his phone and snap a few shots? Maybe he should’ve hired a private investigator when he’d first started figuring out something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t change that now.
So, they were getting a no-fault divorce, which meant a mandatory separation period, which meant the whole fucking thing would drag on for the better part of a year. After it was finalized, Nate could get the ball rolling to change his name back, and then get the even slower ball rolling for the navy to recognize it. With any luck, he’d be switching out the lacquered nametag on his dress uniform just in time to retire.
Yeah, he was stuck as Nate Chandler for a few more months. Maybe even another year or two.
Regardless of his name, though, he felt more alive than he had since that bitter day in January. So now the question was, did he go back for another hit of the crazy hot sex that had shaken him out of his funk? He still needed to talk to Lucas about the tattoo anyway. As if Nate would be able to think about anything except Lucas touching him everywhere but where that damn tiger was drawn.
Fact was, Nate’s brain was in no hurry to let go of Lucas. In fact, the only time his mind wasn’t on that sexy tattoo artist was when he was in the air. There wasn’t much that could distract him from his job—not unless he wanted to get Jon and himself killed, not to mention any unlucky bystanders on the ground.
As soon as Jon put the Super Hornet down, though, it never failed—Lucas was there. Filling Nate’s thoughts. Making his mouth water. Threatening to give him a hard-on in his flight suit.
So . . . now what? Neither of them had made any noise about a second hookup. Nate had been far too overwhelmed to even realize time would continue after that night. When it finally had crossed his mind that life would, in fact, go on, and he wasn’t, in fact, opposed to a rematch, Lucas was gone.
And Lucas . . . well, if he’d wanted more, he probably would’ve said something.
It wasn’t like Nate was naive. One-night stands and casual hookups had never been his thing, but he knew how this worked. God knows he’d spent enough years teasing Jon about his slutty habits. Meet, fuck, rinse, repeat with someone else.
But damn, he hadn’t felt that good in a long time. What was the harm in feeling that good again?
Nate squirmed in the uncomfortably hard plastic chair. After he got off work, he just needed to go home, put on some civvies, and head to Skin Deep. From the house, he could be there in fifteen minutes. Ten if he really dropped the hammer on the Charger. And he did have a reasonable excuse to show up at the shop; he just wasn’t so sure he’d be able to stop himself from changing the subject from tattoos to, “more sex, please.”
It was weird how no-strings sex suddenly had some serious appeal. The last thing he needed was another relationship, but he did miss human contact. Especially intimate human contact.
Or maybe none of that mattered. Maybe there was no point in rationalizing or analyzing when the bottom line was that the sex he’d had with Lucas was too good to be contained in a one-night stand.
Hadn’t Lucas said something about finally breaking a long streak of terrible sex? Nate had taken that to mean he only did the casual thing, and maybe that meant he wouldn’t want a second hookup. He’d seemed pretty happy the night they’d slept together, though, so maybe he’d be game for another round. Maybe he wouldn’t see it as Nate being clingy and trying to turn this into something it wasn’t. Or maybe he would. Where the hell was the line between taking a risk that might pay off and committing some horrendous sex-and-dating faux pas?
Still ignoring the briefing, Nate scrubbed his hand over his face. He really had been out of the dating pool too long, hadn’t he? What were the protocols here?
Hell, what did he have to lose? His dignity? It wasn’t like anything could be more humiliating than finding his husband in the throes of hot, passionate sex—the kind Nate hadn’t had with him in years—with another man, in their bed. Getting turned down for a rematch by the first guy who’d piqued his interest? Piece of cake.
After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Chapter 8
Skin Deep’s door opened. At the front counter, Lucas looked up from his sketchbook and did a double take.
Nate.
Oh God.
Nate.
Lucas’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected Nate to come back. He just . . . wasn’t as ready for him as he’d thought.
Nate closed the door carefully behind himself, like he thought it might knock the whole place down if he let it shut too hard. Then he came toward the counter where Lucas was sketching. Hands in his pockets, he seemed to struggle to hold Lucas’s gaze. “Um . . . hey.”
/>
“Hey.” Lucas swallowed as he glanced down at the embarrassingly untouched tracing of Nate’s tattoo. “I haven’t gotten very far with the design yet. I—”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Lucas didn’t have to ask. The hunger in Nate’s eyes was palpable, raising goose bumps under Lucas’s T-shirt. Have I been out of breath this whole time?
“I . . .” Nate glanced around as if to make sure they were alone. Meeting Lucas’s gaze again, he lowered his voice. “I’m just . . . I’m just gonna put this out there.” He squared his shoulders. “I can’t get you out of my head. I can’t get the other night out of my head.”
Lucas stared incredulously for a second, then managed to say, “Yeah. Same.” Now it was his turn to make sure they were alone. Which they were—sort of. Colin was in the back. Matt was working on a tattoo behind the folded screen. Pete was off tonight. Still, there was no harm in being careful. “Let’s, um . . .” He gestured at the side room. “Good place to talk about your tattoo.”
Nate nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”
They went into the side room where Lucas had initially traced the tiger. This wasn’t completely private, but at least it wasn’t out in the open like the front counter.
Facing Nate, Lucas tried to persuade his heart to stop pounding quite so hard. No such luck. Especially not when Nate was looking at him like that. Like he had in the bedroom that first night. Right before they’d fucked for the second time.
Lucas cleared his throat and broke eye contact. “I’m not really sure what to say.”
“Yeah. Neither am I.” But apparently Nate knew what to do—he closed the last bit of space between them, and kissed Lucas.
Whoa. Apparently they were cutting right to the chase this time.
Yes, yes, yes. So much yes.
Lucas’s knees almost shook out from under him, which seemed like as good an excuse as any to grab on to Nate. If their first kiss had been frantic and hot, their first kiss after a week apart—after Lucas had convinced himself this wouldn’t happen again—was scorching. They kissed hard and deep, raking fingers through hair and rubbing hardening dicks against each other.
All kinds of feelings crashed through Lucas. Relief. Excitement. A few nerves, but so much excitement. The man who’d rocked his world that hard wanted to do it again? Yes, please. Lucas had hardly been pining after the guy, but that kind of sex was something he’d been craving for way too long. Another night with someone who could fuck him like Nate did? Oh dear God, yeah.
Nate’s hand was strong on the back of Lucas’s neck. Not painfully tight, not like he wouldn’t let him go, just firm and needy, like he hoped Lucas wouldn’t pull away. As if pulling away was even remotely on Lucas’s agenda.
Lucas slid a hand down and gripped Nate’s ass cheek, and he was rewarded with a throaty groan against his lips. They stumbled a little, bumping into the table, and Lucas grabbed the edge of it to steady both of them.
Breathlessly, Nate broke the kiss and whispered, “Damn. Here I was worried you might turn me down.”
“Uh-uh.” Lucas teased the corner of Nate’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Not if you’re planning on doing me like you did last time.”
The shiver that ran through Nate nearly knocked them both off balance. Nate held him tighter and growled into another long, deep kiss. If that wasn’t a “Yes, I will absolutely do you like I did last time,” Lucas didn’t know what it was. This he could work with. No games. No bullshit. They were both on the same page. Perfect.
A second too late, Lucas realized some footsteps had broken away from the shop’s background noise.
“Hey, Lucas, do you—” Colin stopped abruptly.
Lucas jerked away from Nate, face burning and stomach plummeting to his feet. He and his boss stared at each other. Oh fuck. Oh . . . fuck.
Colin’s gaze flicked toward Nate, who was as frozen as Lucas.
Fired. So, so fired.
But Colin just chuckled and took a step back, showing his palms. “Uh, it can wait.”
And then he was gone.
Lucas groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I am so dead.”
Nate laughed uneasily. “I’m pretty sure if you were going to be, you would be already.”
“Maybe, but . . .” Lucas swallowed, adjusting the front of his pants. “I’ll, uh, be right back.”
Nate nodded. Lucas left the room and went into the back, where he found Colin updating the dry-erase calendar. His boss’s cheeks were as red as Lucas’s felt, and they exchanged uneasy glances.
Lucas chewed his lip. “So, uh . . . I . . .”
Colin smiled. “Relax. I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I got on your case for hooking up with a client.”
As if Lucas’s face could get any hotter. He could only imagine how red he was.
“Chill. I mean it.” Colin winked. “Do you have any more appointments tonight?”
Lucas shook his head. “No. All I had today was walk-ins, and—”
“Why don’t you go ahead and cut out?”
Lucas blinked. “But . . . I still need to . . .” He gestured at the mop and bucket against the wall. “I’ve still got—”
“I can take care of it.” Colin nodded toward the room where Nate was still waiting. “Get out of here.”
“Seriously?”
“Go.”
Lucas stared at Colin stupidly for a moment, but didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He hurried back to where Nate was waiting for him.
And he decided right then and there that he had the coolest boss ever.
* * *
Naked and hard, they tumbled onto the mattress roughly enough to knock the breath out of Lucas. Nate lifted himself up, concern written all over his face, but Lucas didn’t give him a chance to ask if he was all right. He hauled him back down and kissed him again. Apparently that was enough to convince Nate the roughness hadn’t left him any worse for the wear—they went right back to making out and pawing at each other.
Lucas had asked himself for days why he’d been so hung up on Nate. It obviously wasn’t an emotional thing, but had the sex really been good enough to scramble his brain for a solid week?
He stopped asking now. The answer was so ridiculously obvious in every passionate, needy kiss and every desperate, shaky touch. And just for good measure, Nate picked just that moment to groan softly and start kissing up and down Lucas’s neck, stubbled chin deliciously abrasive on sensitive skin.
“I could do this all night.” Though Nate’s voice was soft, it was strained, too. “But my God, I want to fuck you. Or you fuck me. I don’t . . . I don’t care.”
Lucas squirmed under him. “Y-yeah. Sounds good to me.”
“You want to be on top this time?”
“Don’t know. Kind of . . . kind of liked being on the bottom last time.”
“Mmm.” Nate nibbled Lucas’s collarbone. “Maybe we should flip a coin.”
Squirming underneath him, Lucas moaned. “Don’t think anyone would really lose that coin toss.”
Nate laughed and kissed along the front of Lucas’s throat. “And I guess it would just mean we’d have to have another rematch.”
“Mmm, I like how you think.”
“And I like how you . . .” Nate kissed him again.
This was heaven. Jesus. Especially since Nate was even needier than the last time. He’d hardly been subdued or restrained then; if anything, he’d been palpably overwhelmed. As if he hadn’t even been sure the moment was real, or what he was supposed to do with it if it was.
Tonight he was aggressive and demanding—no tentative kisses or uncertain glances. His hands and mouth were sure, and Lucas was losing his mind. Bold, confident Nate was impossibly sexy, kissing Lucas all over like he’d been waiting all his life for this.
And if he was this bold and aggressive when they were just fooling around—
“Fuck me,” Lucas breathed. “Right now.” Nate groaned, and Lucas added a breathy, “God, I
want you.”
Nate exhaled hard, arching above Lucas as a shudder rippled through him. “Stay just like this.” He brushed a light kiss across Lucas’s lips. “I’ll get a rubber.”
He made quick work of putting on the condom and some lube, and Lucas parted his legs and tried not to go crazy with anticipation as Nate settled over the top of him.
Nate worked a couple of slicked up fingers into Lucas’s hole, and as he did, he said in a husky whisper, “I’m not even joking when I say I’ve been thinking about this nonstop since last time.”
“What? Fingering me?”
Nate laughed and rolled his eyes. “No. Fucking you.” He crooked his fingers just right to slide across Lucas’s spot, and Lucas arched off the mattress. “Trust me when I say that when I’ve jerked off, I haven’t been thinking about my fingers in your ass.”
“Then what—what have you been thinking about?”
“So many things.” Nate leaned down and kissed him as he teased and stretched Lucas’s hole. “Mostly fucking you into the ground. Or you doing the same to me.”
“Like . . . like that first one.” Lucas licked his lips before kissing Nate again. “Just fuck me.”
“I will. But I want to make sure you’re good and ready for—”
“I’ve been good and ready for your dick since last time.” Lucas rocked his hips, riding Nate’s hand hungrily. “Now. Please.”
Nate teased his spot again, turning Lucas’s brain to liquid.
“C’mon,” Lucas whispered between kisses. “Give me . . . I want . . .”
Nate grinned against his lips. “Kinda like how you sound when you beg.”
Lucas tried to protest, but all that came out was the most pitiful whine he’d ever heard from himself. For a split second, he was mortified. Then Nate kissed him and, as he slid his hand free, murmured, “Stay just like that.”