He confirms it in the way he grabs me through the uniform. “Fuck,” I say quietly. “You’re impatient.” My hands go straight to his hips, dragging himcloser. He’s breathing a little too fast already. His mouth is parted. His pupils are wide in the dim light. He looks wrecked before I’ve even properly started. “You’ve been thinking about this all day,” I murmur, mouth close to his ear. “About my cock inside you?”
“What do you think?” he asks, rolling his hips slowly and filthily, grinding down on me hard enough to drag a rough breath from my mouth.
“Lock the doors,” I tell him.
He reaches past me, fumbling slightly with the controls, and lock clicks, snapping into place.
Now we’re sealed in.
Then I kiss him, hard. My tongue pushes past his lips, and he gives way immediately. His hands are in my hair, tugging hard, making me nip his lower lip. He makes that wrecked little sound he tries not to make, his hips rocking down again because he can’t help himself.
“Clothes off, now,” I say, pushing him back far enough to look at him properly. His eyes look black in the low light, making him look even hungrier
He doesn’t make me tell him twice. His jacket comes off first, his shirt after it, then everything else. By the time he’s naked, his cock is hard and leaking, flushed and aching, and I stay exactly where I am for another second just to watch him.
He hates when I do that.
“Always so desperate for it,” I say, and drag my thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the wetness down the shaft. He shudders and thrusts into my hand on instinct.
There’s no point asking him to deny it. He won’t, not like this. I undo my belt slowly enough to make him suffer for a few seconds.
The buckle clinks in the quiet, and my zip follows. He’s watching my hands now, not my face, and I nearly laugh at how easy he is to read when he’s this worked up.
“You want it?” I ask. “Then take it, detka.” He lunges at me, tugging me out of my jacket, dragging my shirt over my head, and by the time I’ve shoved my uniform and boxers down to my ankles, he’s already got his lube slicked hand wrapped around my cock. One stroke. Two. Then he’s lifting himself, positioning me, and sinking down in one slow, greedy movement that makes both of us stop breathing for a second.
Fuck.
He never gets easier to watch like this. The way his face tightens with the stretch, the way his mouth opens, and his whole body trembles as he works himself lower, taking me inch by inch. My hands lock onto his hips while I force myself to let him do it.
“God, I— Fuck Caiden,” I moan. He sits down fully with a broken little sound, ass flush to my thighs, and for a second neither of us moves. He’s tight, hot, and clenching around me in small involuntary waves that tell me exactly how much he wanted this before we ever got in the truck.
Then he starts to ride me. He’s slow at first, testing the angle, finding the depth, letting his body adjust. I feel the point where it changes from careful to needy as he starts chasing it. He speeds up, his hips getting sharper, hungrier, and I let my head fall back against the seat with a low groan because he feels that good.
“Fuck, Ari,” he moans between whimpers, riding me harder, his cock leaking over my stomach, and his breathing going from thin and wrecked to wild pants. I can feel it building already.
Then a shadow passes over the window, and I go stock still under him immediately.
Outside, someone stops beside the truck. I can see the shape of him through the darkened glass when the lighter flares — one of the younger Russian soldiers by the look of him, a cigarette between his fingers, his face lit for a second and then gone again. He’s just outside. One wrong sound, and this becomes a very different evening. “Wait,” I hiss, low enough that only Caiden hears it.
My hands are still on his hips, but my grip changes in warning.
But he doesn’t stop.
Instead, he carries on, moving agonisingly slowly, grinding down just enough to drag my cock against that perfect spot inside him. My breath catches before I can stop it, and his mouth shifts at that, the smug asshole.
The soldier outside takes another drag and shifts his weight, his boots crunching on the gravel. Caiden leansforward until his lips are at my ear. “He can’t see us,” he whispers. “But he could hear us.”
My hands tighten on him as he rocks down again, deeper this time, and I have to bite back the noise trying to come up my throat. “You fucking—” I start, but he lifts up and then sinks onto me again before I can finish. Harder now, no longer pretending to be cautious. The recruit outside shifts closer, and every nerve in my body lights up with it. Risk does that. So does Caiden when he knows exactly what he’s doing and does it anyway. “Fuck,” I breathe.
My hand slides up his back and fists in his hair, pulling his head back. “You’re going to get us caught.”
He smirks at me, “I don’t care. Fuck me, beautiful.”
That does it.
I adjust under him, sliding lower in the seat, spreading his cheeks apart with my hands, and thrusting up hard enough to knock the air out of him. His gasp is sharp, beautiful, and immediately swallowed when he attacks my mouth with his.
Outside, the cigarette glows again. Inside, I start fucking him properly. No more patience, no more waiting to see whether he behaves. My hands lock on his ass, and I drive up into him with fast, rough, deep thrusts that make the whole seat creak beneath us. He’s trying not to make noise now, and failing in the best possible way. Every breath broken against my mouth, every little movement of his body giving him away.
