Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection

by K. A. Merikan

  Clover grinned, arching his head to look at Drake. “Thank you for caring about my modesty.”

  Tank snorted. “What modesty?”

  Clover nipped on Tank’s lip. “I still got some left, Daddy.”

  He was the cutest thing when he got so coy and playful, and Tank rewarded him by sliding his hand under the blanket, along the slender stomach. “There won’t be any left once I’m done with you.”

  He pulled off his top and covered Clover with his body, smiling when the blue eyes rolled back in pleasure. Clover’s foot slid up Tank’s leg, leaving behind a hot trail as their gazes did the talking when Tank’s mouth was too busy exploring Clover’s smooth chest.

  “I want you to be a good boy while I’m gone. Take care of our friends.”

  “Always,” Clover said, but gasped when Tank bit on his nipple.

  “And not worry about me all the time.”

  Clover whined. “I can only try.”

  Tank kissed the nub of pink flesh when Clover’s chest moved up and down, but the boy wasn’t crying. Not yet.

  “You’re stronger than people think. We all know this. You’ll be all right,” Tank whispered, playing Clover’s ribs as it they were strings while he ducked into the heat of the blanket and pulled on the boy’s sweatpants with his teeth.

  As soon as he saw the growing erection in the dusky shadows lit up by the glow of the fire seeping through the blanket, all other thoughts dispersed. Tank teased the cockhead with a few kisses that made Clover moan and raise his hips, but the boy would have to wait for more. First, Tank wanted to bury himself deep in his pliant warmth, because this wasn’t only about getting his fill of the boy. Tank had faith in his skills and experience, but he wasn’t stupid. If things didn’t go their way, this could be his last night with Clover, so he wanted to remember him in the finest detail.

  He needed to make sure neither of them was left with a sense of regret.

  Clover’s slim thighs tightened around Tank’s head when he sucked in the tip of the smooth cock, closing him in a bubble of warm musk. The pre-cum spread over his tongue, and he hummed with pleasure as its flavor caused a shiver to run down his body and tighten around his balls. Hands cupped his head, and he moved his own to Clover’s legs in response, gently kneading the tempting thighs.

  “So good,” Clover whispered, trying to clutch at Tank’s hair, but the strands were too short.

  The blanket was scratchy against Tank’s back, the fire crackled nearby, and he could still smell the s’mores. He had Clover moaning in his arms, and craving his love. Tank could hardly think of a better night. No past or future mattered right now.

  He squeezed Clover’s ass that bit more tightly and got the sweetest whimper in response. He loved everything about Clover’s need for him. He was almost twice Clover’s age, yet the boy made him feel like the most desired stud.

  Tank got the ultimate confirmation of Clover’s eagerness when the boy turned under him, and rocked his soft ass against Tank’s crotch.

  “I want you inside,” Clover whispered, as if he were shy about anyone else hearing him.

  Tank exhaled and pressed a kiss to each of the buttocks. It was dark, but the weave of the blanket let in some of the light, creating the most wonderful image of round globes, so delicious Tank couldn’t wait to dig in. He rubbed his face into the small of Clover’s back and moved up, reminding himself of every scar, every blemish, because as painful as their origins were, they were now a part of Clover and his story. And Tank wanted to remember it all.

  “Sweet thing. You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he said, his head emerging from under the blanket.

  Clover giggled, arching his ass up again, and it was pure pleasure to see him so relaxed. “Anything for my Daddy. You were gone for two days. I fingered myself thinking of you yesterday.”

  Lust squeezed Tank’s balls, and it felt exactly like Clover’s smooth, lovely fingers. “How many times?” he whispered and unzipped his pants, pushing them down, as if this was his one chance to bury his cock in Clover, and it could be gone all too soon.

  “Just once. Wanted to save myself for this,” Clover rasped, and as Tank’s frustration about the need to get up for lube rose, Drake was once more there for him.

  Without a word, Drake placed a tube of lube next to Tank’s hand. Their eyes met, and he smirked at Drake. The kinky bastard was there to watch. He’d always been a voyeur, and had watched Tank have sex many times even before Clover had joined their group.

  But he was helpful, Tank gave him that.

  “I want you to keep doing it when I’m gone. And as you fuck yourself with those fingers, I want you to think about your Daddy. Who knows, maybe I’ll even feel that you’re calling out to me somewhere,” Tank rasped and gave Clover’s ass a gentle slap.

  Clover’s breaths quickened when Tank rubbed lube between his buttocks. “Yes, Daddy. I will. I’ll do it thinking of you and your cock.”

  Tank’s head turned hazy with heat, and he generously spread lube over his own dick, ready to slide into Clover’s pliant ass. He glanced up at Drake, who sat close and didn’t even hide anymore that he was a silent participant in this act. The blanket covered Tank and Clover from the waist down, but Drake would still see Clover’s face twisting in pleasure, maybe even tears, if Tank fucked his boy well enough.

  Tank loved how unrestrained Clover was in sex. If things got intense, he’d cry, and wouldn’t apologize for it, just letting go in the arms of the man he was with. It was an openness Tank cherished and never abused.

  Clover was his to protect, to nourish. To love.

  His fingers swept over the hole again, and the way the delicate wrinkled flesh reacted to touch, all supple and inviting, had him shivering even before he took hold of his dick and rocked it between the buttocks, sparking heat they both could barely stand.

  “Is this what you want, boy? My big cock in your fuckhole?”

  Clover moaned, his ass moving in that gloriously impatient way. “Yes, please,” but it was almost inaudible, so Tank teased Clover by pressing on the hole with his cockhead.

  “Didn’t catch that,” he said and bit Clover’s ear.

  “Yes, please, Daddy. I want you fucking my hole. All yours.” Clover’s shoulder blades arched. He was such a lovely sight when excited.

  “You’re not begging hard enough,” Tank said, even though sweat rolled down his back from the effort of stopping himself from claiming the snug opening already.

  Clover whined and pressed his face into the blanket while reaching back. It took only one glance between their bodies to realize Clover had pulled on his buttocks and spread them for Tank. “Please, please, please. Don’t let your boy wait for your cock, Daddy. I want it so much.”

  Tank had to take a second to look over Clover’s head and into Drake’s eyes, satisfied to find the hungry expression in the dilated pupils. He bit back a grin, and kept up the eye contact as he spoke again. “Say it again, boy. Where do you want my cock?”

  Clover was panting under him, such a beautiful mess with those pale limbs and bright hair. He rocked his ass against Tank’s cock, holding his hole open. “I want it fucking me, Daddy. I want to milk your dick with my hole and have you come inside, please.”

  Tank shivered and made the push, burying himself in the pliant body under his. Clover gave a choked gasp and arched his back as his heels dug into the sides of Tank’s thighs. “Oh God... Daddy, you feel so good inside me,” he whined, swiping his hair over Tank’s face as he shook his head erratically.

  Above Clover, Tank could still see Drake, who’d put a pillow on his crotch, as if he were embarrassed of the erection he sported while his wide-eyed gaze wandered from Clover to Tank and back.

  Tank grinned at him, and then bit into Clover’s nape, making him squirm. “That’s my boy. Loves to get his ass pounded.” He would show Drake just how much Clover needed to be treated like his old self, not some porcelain prince who couldn’t be touched. “Go on, milk my dick wi
th that boyhole.”

  Clover’s breathing became erratic, and he gasped for air time and time again, his slender body trapped under Tank’s. He pulled his hands away from his buttocks, and Tank instantly trapped the slim fingers in his, pinning them to the blanket by Clover’s head. Knowing he was giving Clover what the boy wanted was an intoxicating mix of power and pleasure.

  “Is this… good, Daddy?” Clover asked, riding Tank’s cock like the perfect slutty submissive.

  “Your little hole’s perfect. It’s made to take my dick. And any other dick I want to see inside it,” Tank whispered, lowering himself over Clover until the boy was lying flat, squashed under Tank’s weight, with only their hips working faster with every passing second.

  Clover gave a low moan, then cried out, and once his hole spasmed on Tank’s cock, he understood the boy was climaxing under him. Tank pulled on Clover’s hair to witness his face in all its lip-biting glory.

  “Oh yeah? You came just from riding my dick, slutty boy?” Tank was so hot he didn’t need the damn blanket anymore. He sawed into Clover’s ass with new intensity, slapping against the lovely buttocks each time he went all the way in, but his thoughts dispersed with the urgent need to come. He wanted to fill Clover with cum and make the boy remember his Daddy for days.

  He looked up at Drake. “See how much he likes it? Our boy’s so dick-hungry he barely needs to eat.”

  Drake’s chest hollowed, and he bit his lip, as if he wanted to stop himself from speaking.

  Tank winked at him and tightened his arms around Clover, thrusting even faster now, when his own orgasm was just around the corner. Their sweaty bodies stuck together, keeping them both warm, and he shut his eyes, completely focused on how Clover felt in his arms and around him. He knew the boy was capable, but right now, trembling with his orgasm, he seemed so fragile Tank wished to bury him in cotton candy for protection.

  Pleasure crashed into Tank like a wall, and he held on even more tightly, breathing in the fresh scent of his beloved boy. “You feel so good.”

  Clover whimpered, the sweetest little after-orgasm sound when he didn’t have the energy to speak anymore, yet still wanted to acknowledge Tank. Their fingers were still entwined. Soon enough, they’d need to untangle themselves from each other, but not yet.

  *

  Three hours later, Tank watched Clover sleeping in his sweater and cuddled into Boar’s embrace under a blanket. The fire was still going strong thanks to Pyro, but Drake was nowhere to be seen. Tank had said his goodbyes to Clover earlier, and the boy looked so cozy cuddled up to Boar’s equally relaxed form it didn’t seem right to wake him up.

  He pointed at Pyro. “Stay on the right track, okay? For them.” Because Pyro had already proven he wasn’t capable of doing so for his own benefit.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be straight edge by the time you’re back.” Pyro smirked and threw another stick into the fire.

  “That, I highly doubt.” Tank snorted. “Take care,” he said and turned, unwilling to prolong the inevitable.

  Tank threw the bag he’d just packed over his shoulder and made his way to the pickup.

  The warmth of the fire no longer provided light as he headed for the vehicle, but the sight of a silhouette waiting on the other side of the truck had him alert. His hand touched the grip of his gun before he could even think, but then Drake looked over his shoulder and met Tank’s gaze in the dark.

  Shoulders slumping, Tank joined him by the driver’s door, both happy to see him and unsettled by the way Drake had so obviously waited for him away from the others.

  “So you decided to come say goodbye after all?” Tank grinned, despite the heaviness in his heart, and approached Drake. “Give Daddy a hug.” He could hardly hold in the snort when Drake scowled.

  “I’m too old for you to be my daddy.”

  Tank sighed and opened the door, hauling his bag into the passenger seat while Drake watched. “Never too old for a hug though?”

  Drake crossed his arms, gaze swiping the ground. Drake’s anger couldn’t have been clearer if he’d had needles growing out of him. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. That man has no conscience. One false move, and you’re in a world of pain.”

  Tank rubbed his forehead. “I do know what I’m dealing with. I’ve seen what he did to you and Clover. Any man has a breaking point, but I just gotta do my best. If this thing goes well, we get to finish him, and end the threat.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?” Drake asked in a voice Tank could barely hear over the humming trees above.

  Tank took a deep breath and spread his arms. “Then I die. What do you want me to say? You know this.”

  Drake made a strangled sound and bit on his thumb, staring down the dark road where Tank would soon disappear.

  Tank pulled Drake into his arms despite Drake’s body language screaming against it. “If things go to shit, you need to promise me you’ll take care of Clover. Worst case scenario, you can go to the safe house in Alaska and take it from there. It’s not ideal, and you’d probably need to move after a while, but it will be a start.”

  Drake buried his face in Tank’s hoodie, and his breath wheezed against the fabric. He remained stiff as a wooden board, but he didn’t try to get away, staying where Tank had put him. “I promise. You can count on me.”

  Relief was like a living being nestling in Tank’s chest. He’d been afraid Drake had come here to fight over this, be obstructive, or make some petty comment, but no, Drake understood what was at stake.

  In a spontaneous gesture Tank couldn’t fight, he nudged Drake’s chin up and kissed his lips oh-so-gently, unwilling to scare him off. “Thank you.”

  Drake’s breath tasted of cigarettes. It was sharp and nothing like the soft way he looked at Tank when their lips parted. For a strange moment, they remained close, but Drake cleared his throat and eventually stepped out of Tank’s arms. “Be careful. I’ll take care of everyone here, but don’t be a hero. Remember we’re all waiting for you.”

  “I know.” Tank winked at Drake. “But it’s still nice to hear you say it.”

  By the time Tank had gotten into the driver’s seat, Drake had already disappeared into the night.

  Chapter 14 – Clover

  [That stray dog I met, it’s back. Still wary of me, but we’ll get there once I bring him more food. Have a great day, honeybun!]

  Clover stared at the message he’d read countless times since Tank had sent it last night. Its presence meant his lover was alive and well. Its contents—that Apollo didn’t yet trust the new guy on his team but seemed to accept him nevertheless. Everything was going according to plan, but Clover remained alert, worried the phone might deliver bad news any day.

  He was sitting outside with a cup of cocoa, watching the falling leaves, and still amazed at how easily he’d detached from the Internet after meeting the guys. It had been out of necessity at first, but he’d never felt the need to curate an Instagram account or make friends on Facebook. They had a group chat for all of them, but other than that, Clover enjoyed the nature around them, Boar chopping wood for an evening fire, or deer-spotting on long walks much more than virtual distractions.

  Maybe he was an old soul, because he’d definitely developed grandpa tastes. All he now needed to complete that picture was a good pair of slippers and a pipe.

  The serenity of the afternoon was shattered by Pyro’s voice.

  “I don’t fucking care. Look at you, all high and mighty. Try being me for a day, and feeling what I feel, and then we’ll talk,” he shouted before bursting through the door. His hair was undone and hung almost all the way to his waist, providing a rare occasion for Clover to see how long it was when unbraided.

  Boar stopped on the threshold, his brows twitching as he followed Pyro with his gaze. “Seriously? I’ve been forced to fight people and animals, and feared death every single time, and you’re saying you have it hard?”

  Pyro spread his arms wide, his neck red and bulging with ve
ins. “What is this? The pain Olympics? You know that’s not what I meant!”

  Clover attempted to hide behind the rocking chair on the porch but he was still pretty sure Pyro spotted him.

  His pallid cheeks flushed, and he pointed at Clover. “What the hell are you looking at? Stop smiling.”

  Boar left the house at a languid pace. “Sorry, Clover.”

  “Can’t I have a conversation with him without someone trying to censor me?” Pyro asked before rubbing his forehead. “I just wanna go somewhere, so give me the fucking keys. I’m getting cabin fever!”

  Clover scowled. The rule to keep Pyro away from stores and people until his drug hunger subsided had been a unanimous decision, but the consequences of Pyro’s anger affected Boar disproportionately, who was intent on helping his lover every step of the way.

  Clover got up, eager to support Boar so that he didn’t have to deal with this temper tantrum on his own. “We can go for a walk,” he offered. “Boar could teach us about tracking. Your dad taught you, right?”

  Pyro kicked the pile of wood left close to the fire pit. “I don’t want to go for a walk! I want to see other people, not only your stupid faces all day!”

  Clover rolled his eyes, but stepped closer. “We can go see stupid deer faces instead.”

  Pyro grabbed him by the collar and backed him into the porch railing. “Listen, you brat, I don’t need a toddler telling me what to do!”

  Boar jumped right in the middle of it. “Jesus Christ, let go of him!”

  Pyro’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips dry, but the grip he had on Clover was as firm as ever. “I want you all to just leave me the fuck alone!”

  Clover tightened his hands on Pyro’s wrists, secure enough in Boar’s presence to feel pity rather than fear Pyro’s aggression. “Come on. You don’t really mean that.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Drake asked, emerging from behind the house.

  Pyro sneered and reluctantly let go of Clover. “None of your business. Go back to your sulking!”