“Okay,” he said into my hair. “There you are. I’ve been looking for the rest of you for five years, and I finally get to see all of you.”
He took my hand and led me up to our room.
He undressed me slowly, tugging on my shirt and pushing it up and over my head. He placed both hands flat on my chest, thumbs moving over the muscles. I reached for the hem of his shirt out of habit, and he caught my wrist.
“Not now. You hold still and let me.”
I stopped. Switching positions was never tough. Lying still and letting him run it all was.
He got the rest of my clothes off me and laid me back against the pillows. Then he stood at the side of the bed, stripping down and letting me watch.
The sight of him still did the same thing to me it did that first night. I was already hard.
He came down over me on his hands and knees, kissing my throat. Then he kissed that soft spot below my ear before working his way down from there.
“Ten days on the road,” he said against my collarbone, “and then a fight, and then this. This is my turn.”
His lips touched a bruise under my collarbone. He was gentle, and then pressed harder. I hissed. “Yes,” Varga said.
He kissed down the center of my stomach while he kept one hand on my chest. My muscles jumped.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not fine right now. That’s the whole thing, Rook. I’ve been trying to say that since we met. You can lie here and let me see it all.”
He wrapped his lips around my cock. I reached for his hair to set the pace, and he stopped. “No,” he said. “I’ve got this.”
He grinned before taking me into his mouth again. I pressed my hand flat against the sheets. I had nothing to do but let it all happen. It wrecked me.
When he had me close, he pulled off and rested his cheek against my hip.
“You stopped,” I said while panting for breath.
“I’m not done.” He kissed the inside of my thigh. “I want this to go on for a long time. We don’t have a curfew. No one o’clock or thirty seconds in the hall after. We’re home.” He looked up and licked my balls. His eyes were steady on mine in the low light. “I want to do this like men who get to keep each other.”
He reached across me to the nightstand for the bottle of lube and settled between my knees like he meant to stay there the rest of his life. The first finger went in slowly, and he watched my face the whole time.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Keep going.”
He slipped a second finger inside and kissed the head of my cock. “I’ve got you. I’m taking my time.”
He crooked his fingers, missed, hummed as if that was interesting information, adjusted, and got it on the second pass. My spine arched off the bed. “There,” he said, pleased with himself.
He slid his fingers forward and back, and I rocked down onto his hand. When I moaned, he pulled his fingers out, slicked himself up, and pushed in, one long thrust.
I gripped his hips. “Harder.”
He gave it to me with real weight behind it, and the headboard knocked against the wall. He jammed his forearm under my shoulders to hold me where he wanted me. I dug my heels into the backs of his thighs to pull him in deeper.
Varga had a fistful of my hair with his mouth at my ear, swearing low. I took all of it and asked for more.
I swallowed the sound, releasing only low, soft moans.
“No,” he said. “Let me hear it. We’re home. Let me hear you.”
