The Farther He Runs: A Kick Novel

by Lynda Aicher

  But he couldn’t think. Couldn’t even concentrate on the kiss, which had faded to messy swipes and harsh pants. Friction stung and enhanced his overstimulated dick, the pain slight but edging into distracting as his brain tripped over the conflicting signals. He wouldn’t stop, though. Not until they finished.

  “I’m going to—” Tanner moaned, an anguished rumble from his throat.

  Finn leaned back to see Tanner’s tense jaw, lifted chin, taut neck tendons. Yes. “Do it.” He shoved his own release down, dodged the clawing tension that contracted through his groin.

  Tanner arched, mouth gaping. His eyes were squeezed closed, muscles clenched, and then he exploded with a cry. Come shot hot on Finn’s fist and stomach, the added slickness easing his strokes as it blended beneath his palm.

  Tanner sucked in a breath, grunted as another shot of come burst out.

  He—this—fuck.

  Finn’s orgasm blazed through him on a flash of power. His hips bucked, release rushing forth to shoot from his dick and shock him with its intensity. He couldn’t hold back his grunt, didn’t try to control his shudder and the blinding euphoria that engulfed him as he gasped through the aftershocks.

  His hand stilled, quiet descending after the mad roar of his orgasm. He struggled for air, breaths rasping, heart still pounding. He pried his eyes open, found Tanner staring back at him, his expression as dazed as Finn felt.

  Stunning. Gorgeous. Open.

  A slow smile spread over his lips, contentment flowing out in the mellow harmony.

  He shifted closer, pressed his entire length to Tanner’s. Legs entwined, arms wrapped around each other, come slicking on their stomachs. They kissed. Long, slow, easy with words he didn’t know if he could say.

  But they rolled through him. Bled from his heart and cried with the belonging he’d never dared to hope for. Not on this level or this freely.

  They parted on a gentle sigh, foreheads still touching.

  Words floated in and out of his mind on flowing wisps of nothingness. He was in Tanner’s arms, the hole in his heart filled with everything Tanner had poured into him.

  He didn’t need to think. Didn’t need to figure anything out.

  For a while he could simply be. And that was perfect.

  Chapter 16

  A soft snore woke Tanner. A hand holding his. A leg tossed over the back of his knee.

  Finn.

  His smile grew in a lazy curl that matched the contentment spreading from his heart. He tightened his grip on Finn’s hand and opened his eyes. They were both on their stomachs, Finn’s head turned away from him, their clasped hands raised between them like they’d reached out in sleep to find each other. A fanciful yet warming thought.

  Muted light broke through the window to chase away the dark, but it wasn’t strong enough to announce the start of the day. The blankets were pushed down around their waists, and he shivered at the rush of cold that raced down his back now that he was awake. It wouldn’t hurt their tats to cover up, but that would require letting go of Finn’s hand. Definitely pathetic and he didn’t care. He’d waited too damn long for this to worry about how sappy that made him.

  Would Finn feel the same when he woke up?

  Tanner had retrieved the ointment for their tats last night and they’d applied another coat, the simple task infinitely more intimate and sensual the second time.

  He shivered again and opted to snuggle into Finn’s side instead of reaching for the blanket. He tucked his leg between Finn’s, wrapped his arm around Finn’s lower back to avoid the tat, and rested his head on Finn’s shoulder. His sigh was long and deep with a relief he couldn’t have described.

  Sleep-warm man, heavy with sex and a faint hint of soap, surrounded him. Warmth seeped into his bones, chasing the cold away almost immediately. Finn had always been like a portable furnace. He ran hotter than everyone else, while Tanner had a tendency to be cold. And Chris had been…the moderate one.

  He frowned at that, thoughts digging through the piles of memories stacked up over years of brotherhood. That had been Chris. He’d been the one who’d reeled Tanner into their friendship. He’d led them to Tanner’s first kink club. He’d always been the one to organize their outings, even if it’d simply been dinner and a beer.

  Chris had navigated their friendship from the very beginning. Brought Finn and him together, then kept them both at his sides. The brother to my left. Most often, that’d been Chris’s real position, with Finn on Chris’s left. It’d never irritated him. Hell, he’d never thought about it until now. But…had Chris’s putting himself in the middle been intentional?

  Finn shifted, muscles tensing and releasing with his grumbled stirring. He turned his head on the pillow, but Tanner didn’t look up. He was too comfortable in his cocoon of now to break it with what’s next?

  The connection—proof of life and love and belonging—was better than any fuck or orgasm. This right here was what he’d always sought when darkness and death threatened to overwhelm him. This small confirmation that he’d be okay. That someone cared.

  That he’d be missed if he was gone.

  Like Chris was. Missed so damn much.

  His heart contracted around the guilt of his earlier thoughts. Chris had given him a place to be. A set of brothers who’d loved him because they’d chosen to, not because they’d been told to. And he’d been questioning Chris’s actions? What a shit he was being.

  He sniffed, wiggled his nose to get rid of the sting that prickled there. Damn it. A soft kiss to the top of his head didn’t help his situation at all. He squeezed his eyes closed, arm tightening around Finn. That right there—the unsolicited support—was everything.

  And Finn wasn’t bolting from the bed, and from what’d changed last night.

  “I don’t think he’d mind,” Finn said, his voice quiet in the early-morning softness.

  Tanner wet his lips and tried to clear his dry throat without making a noise. He failed, of course, and managed to produce a mangled grunt that hid nothing.

  “Are you a mind reader now?” he tried to joke, his words still raspy.

  “Only with you.”

  He snorted a derisive laugh and tried to deflect. “Corny.”

  Finn shrugged, his shoulder lifting and shifting beneath Tanner’s head. “Maybe. But it’s true.”

  It was, and he couldn’t dispute it. Bastard.

  Did he read that?

  “I am not.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “When?”

  Tanner tensed. Swallowed. “Whenever you want.”

  Finn’s chuckle rumbled softly through the room. “Come up here.” Finn turned to his side and urged Tanner up to the pillow.

  They were face-to-face, too close for morning breath and too early for pillow talk, but that didn’t deter Finn. Tanner tried to frown at him, but his fake anger faded when faced with the scruffy, sleep-rumpled guy who took his breath away.

  “That’s better.” Finn’s easy smile slid right into Tanner and freed another box of worries he’d been harboring. He stroked a thumb over Tanner’s cheek, eyes searching.

  “So you’re okay with this?” Tanner needed to hear the words before he fully believed that this—they—had a chance. That it wasn’t a fluke or a bout of bad decisions and bigger regrets.

  A frown tugged his brows down. “I was—until you asked that question.”

  He smiled at that and reached up to grab Finn’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they came to rest between them. They talked then, their eyes communicating what his voice couldn’t free.

  We’re doing this.

  We’re still good.

  I don’t want to lose you.

  You won’t.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here when I woke up,” Tanner finally said.

  “I can’t drive.” Finn arched a brow. “How far could I go?”

  “Right.” Tanner heaved a sigh, taking the hint that his insecurities were raging forth without cause.


  “What about you?” Finn prodded. “You okay with this?” He lifted their linked hands.

  “Very.” He had no doubts about that. “As long as it doesn’t kill our friendship.”

  “It won’t.” More confidence poured out of those two words than he’d heard from Finn since getting here. “It can’t,” he insisted, his brow lowering with that line of stubborn determination that’d gotten them out of more than one impossible situation.

  “Okay.” His fingers ached from the tight hold Finn had on them, but he wasn’t about to complain. He clung to Finn’s belief and established his own. They would be good even if this new thing didn’t work out.

  But he’d make sure it worked out. How in the hell could he go back to not having this added layer of trust and love with Finn?

  “Chris would be cool with this,” Finn said again after a long moment of contented quiet. His eyes narrowed, though, doubt threading through the gray shadows within them.

  “Now maybe,” he agreed, his own doubts racing back up. “But this isn’t because he’s gone, is it?” This better not be a fucking rebound or recovery—or a whatever-the-fuck “re” word he wanted to use—thing.

  “No.” Finn’s insistence lashed out quick and sharp. “You know me better than that.” He tried to yank his hand away, but Tanner held it tight.

  “I do.”

  Finn stilled and Tanner raised their joined hands to place a kiss on Finn’s knuckles. They were rough and scarred from battles, and Tanner found himself treasuring the life Finn had led and the one he had ahead of him.

  Finn cleared his throat, lips working. “You’re a romantic fuck, then?”

  Tanner flicked a brow, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Another thing for you to learn about me.”

  “I thought I already knew everything.”

  “Not even close, Gravy.”

  Finn hauled him in, fingers digging into his nape in a delicious way that had Tanner’s dick hardening. “I might be thirty pounds lighter, but I can still take you, Toe Pick.”

  He proved his point by claiming Tanner’s mouth in a tongue-sweeping, teeth-clanking, lip-crushing kiss that Tanner didn’t fight at all. His mind spun with the intensity bordering on possessive that should’ve had his independent, tough Marine side rebelling. Instead, he sank into the demand and gave himself over to whatever Finn wanted.

  In this space, with him, he didn’t have to be anything but with Finn.

  To give whatever Finn wanted.

  He took the hungry kiss, the stale flavor giving way to heat and passion that ignited in a flash of suppressed everything.

  Finn gasped as he jerked back. He rolled his forehead on Tanner’s, breaths crashing over his cheek as he kneaded his neck. “I want so much…”

  “Then take it,” he said against the corner of Finn’s mouth. “Whatever you want.” Was that clear enough?

  The low laugh tickled his cheek. “How did I not know that about you?” His wonder came through on a mystified note.

  “I didn’t let you.” The truth fell out to bare another piece of Tanner’s damaged heart.

  Finn eased back to search him, more questions flying out to bombard Tanner. He didn’t dodge or deflect them. There was no need now. Not if he wanted something real with Finn. Honest. Open, without secrets and assumptions.

  “You two were always so strong and sure when you were around others.” Tanner slicked his tongue over his lips, gathered more strength. “And for some fucked-up reason, you included me. I was already ‘the Asian guy,’ and then ‘the gay guy.’ Adding ‘submissive bottom’ to that list wasn’t going to happen.”

  Hurt slashed across Finn’s eyes, the gray darkening beneath his drawn brows. “You didn’t trust us? What? Did you think we’d ridicule you? Subs are some of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You know that.”

  “I do.” He reached up to rub the frown from Finn’s forehead. He already had lines etched there from years of squinting at the sun. He didn’t need to make them more prominent. “But the term has its stereotypes, and adding another to my list wasn’t in me.” He sighed, and then smirked to lighten the mood. “Being known as another ‘Marine bottom boy’ was one title I chose to avoid.”

  That got the soft puff of laughter he’d been going for. “There’s nothing wrong with being a bottom.”

  “I know.” He did. “I have no problem taking it up the ass. But I refuse to deal with the scorn from men who look at my size, find out I’m a Marine, and get all pissy if I don’t nail them into the wall.” He rolled his eyes.

  Finn puffed out a humph. “Idiots.”

  “Yup. It’s not worth taking their shit when I can fuck them into the wall and be happy.”

  Finn’s frown came back, those wrinkles digging deep. “And the clubs then? The scenes where you were a hard-ass Dom?”

  “I can be that guy just fine.” He shrugged. “The power rush is cool, and I’m not pretending when I do a scene.” He gave another sigh, hesitating with the twist in his stomach. “But there are times when I’d love to let it all go. I look at the bliss on a sub’s face, the absolute freedom they have when their only concern is giving the top what they want, and a big dose of envy swoops in.”

  Finn smoothed light circles over his bicep, the absent movement becoming more soothing the longer the silence continued. Tanner wasn’t concerned about Finn judging or thinking less of him for what he’d admitted. But simply saying aloud what he’d refused to admit to himself until recently cracked his vulnerable shell way the fuck open.

  “Master sergeant,” Finn mused. “There’s a fuck ton of responsibility on your shoulders.”

  “An entire team now. Twelve men under me, and every one of them highly capable on their own.”

  “But…”

  It was his turn to frown now. “Don’t give me that shit. You know. They’re my men. My responsibility. It’s my job to get them all home safe and whole.” To think fast. React faster. Direct and guide and support and—

  “Hey.” Finn cut off his spiraling thoughts with a hard jab to his forehead. “Stop that shit.” He tapped his forehead again. “Those thoughts will only eat at you until they drive you fucking crazy.” He would know. Finn had been their team leader and had borne a version of this weight himself.

  “Which is why I don’t usually. But you asked.”

  He huffed out a soft grunt of mirth before his expression sobered. “Did uh…Did everyone make it back this time?”

  Finn and Chris had both known not to push on anything job-related when he returned from a mission. They’d been there, and understood the desire to simply forget, along with the inability to do so. The time and space it took to go from groomed killer to harmless civilian. To remember how to care about more than staying alive, finishing the mission, and bringing one’s team home.

  A week wasn’t nearly long enough to find his footing, but Finn’s cabin had been a haven, where he hadn’t needed to pretend to be normal when he felt anything but. Plus, he’d had Finn to focus on. Chris to mourn.

  “One was injured.” Every guy in special ops had years of experience, more training than anyone in any other Marine unit, the courage to undertake anything asked of him, and the mental fortitude to survive. But none of that helped against IEDs, grenades, and big-ass missiles. Not to mention plain old bullets. Those still killed too. “Lost his lower leg.” A good fucking Marine—and friend—who’d been on his team for two years.

  “Classified?”

  “It never happened.” Tanner kicked his lips up in a cynical smirk. “The official war’s over, remember?” They both knew what most Americans didn’t, that in the years since the war had “ended,” the U.S. had still been fighting for something.

  “Unconventional warfare.” Sarcastic quotes framed Finn’s words. “The new generation of fighting without a declaration of war.”

  “Ooh-rah,” Tanner said, raising his fist for a bump.

  Finn obliged, the camaraderie binding them closer. Tanne
r couldn’t talk like this with anyone else. The few relationships he’d had with women his first years in the service had all been superficial. Hell, he’d been hiding—more like denying—he was gay. Getting close to anyone hadn’t been possible, or what he’d wanted.

  The quiet settled in, the conversation taking a natural end. The light had grown stronger but was still gloomy. His internal clock guessed it to be maybe seven. Sleeping in was one of the lazy enjoyments granted on leave, and he was in no rush to get up. In fact, he’d be happy to lie here and fuck the day away. Literally.

  Pellets of ice droplets blasted the window in a sudden gust of wind. His eyes widened, grin spreading. So the weather was on board with that thought.

  “No run today,” Finn said, raising his head to look over Tanner’s shoulder to the window.

  “A day off is good.”

  “Yeah.” He sunk back down. “I guess we’ll need to do our workout inside.”

  Tanner muffled a laugh. “Is that an innuendo? Because it sucks if it is.”

  “It sucks? Really?” Finn propped himself up, eyes narrowing. Speculation raced across his expression.

  Fuck. Tanner’s pulse kicked up, blood rushing to his groin to turn his chubby into a full erection. He’d been half-hard since he’d woken up, but this one look from Finn had him ready to do whatever Finn wanted.

  Who was he kidding? He’d been ready to bend over and give Finn everything for years.

  He smiled, every ounce of cocky swagger he owned rising up to push at Finn. “Totally.”

  Finn searched him, silent questions laid out that Tanner answered with a confidence he hadn’t had even a day ago.

  Are you sure?

  Yes.

  What if…

  It won’t.

  A hesitation. A waver of doubt that clouded Finn’s eyes and brought his brows low.

  Tanner clung to the memory of running eight hell-filled miles with a plug strapped in his ass—for Finn. Of Finn jacking him off. Finn inserting his finger in his sore hole, pure control and authority pouring from him to sweep Tanner up.

  He’d never be a submissive in the purest sense of the word. Yet he longed to give his control over—even for a little while—to Finn and know, without question, that he’d be safe.