The Brits are leaving in the morning.
Caiden is laughing with someone near the middle tables, a drink in hand, his shoulders loose. He looks good. Relaxed. Like he’s leaning into the noise to keep from thinking too hard about the morning.
I don’t join in, I hover near the edges instead, nursing a drink I don’t want, my eyes tracking him constantly. I can feelthe clock ticking somewhere behind my brain, each second tightening the coiling, sick feeling in my stomach.
Niko appears at my side like he always does; his expression is unreadable, glass in hand. “You’re brooding,” he says mildly.
“I am supervising,” I reply.
He snorts. “Sure you are,” he teases. Then he lifts my hand and slips something into my palm — a key. I glance down at it, then back at him. “Visitors’ bunks,” Niko says quietly. “Third floor. End of the hall. Don’t be stupid.”
“That narrows it down,” I mutter.
He meets my eyes, seriousness threading through the humour. “He’s wheels up at 0800. Make sure he’s back in his room before then. Packed and sober enough to pass inspection.” I close my fingers around the key.
“Thank you,” I say, and mean it far more than the words cover.
Niko’s mouth tilts. “Don’t make it harder than it already is.”
It takes me less than a minute to find Caiden. He looks up when he sees me approach, his smile already forming, and something in me goes all fuzzy at how automatic it is. I lean in close, my mouth almost brushing his ear. “Visitors’ bunks, third floor, five minutes.”
His smile shifts. “Is that an order, sir?”
“Absolutely.”
“And after?”
I glance at him, and whisper so no one can hear. “I want you to fuck me.”
His breathing hitches. “Yes,sir,” he whispers, and knocks his drink back.
In the visitors’ bunk the door barely shuts before Caiden’s hands are on me; his mouth crashes into mine, abandoning all the restraint he’s been pretending to have all evening. I shove him back against the wall, kissing him harder, like I can shove the leaving out of him if I try hard enough. “Bed,” he says against my mouth.
“My bossy, detka.” I tease, but I let him push me back away from him anyway. Caiden exhales through his nose, his green eyes flick over me like he’s memorising the lines of my body all over again.
“You’re staring,” he teases.
“I like what I see,” I say, letting my gaze drag down his frame, lingering on the way his T-shirt clings to his chest, and the muscles beneath shifting as he crosses his arms.
My fingers itch. “Are you going to stand there all night, soldier?”That gets him; his lips twitch, and then he’s closing the distance between us in two strides. His hand shoots out, gripping the back of my neck, pulling me in until our mouths are a breath apart. “Are you calling the shots now, sir?” he mocks.
I don’t answer, I crash my mouth against his instead. It isn’t the usual kiss — no teeth, battle for dominance, or rough shove against the wall. This one is different. His lips part under mine; his tongue slides against my bottom lip, teasing, tasting.
I groan into it; my hands find his waist, I grip the hem of his shirt and yank it up just enough to feel the heat of his skin beneath. He lets me, breaking the kiss only long enough to drag the fabric over his head; his abs flex as he tosses it aside, and I trace the lines and dips with my fingertips, watching his breath hitch.
“Fuck,” he mutters when my nails graze his nipple. His hands come up, gripping my wrists, not to stop me, but toguide them higher, over his shoulders. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”
“Shut up,” I breathe out, pushing him back a step, then another, until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He goes down without resistance, and the mattress dips under his weight. His thighs spread just enough to make room for me. I follow, stepping between them; my cock is already hard and aching against my uniform. His hands land on my hips and his fingers dig in, but he doesn’t pull me closer.
I reach out to unfasten his trousers, pulling them open. His cock is already half-hard, thick and heavy against his dark briefs, and the head peeks out from the waistband. I wrap my fingers around the base, stroking just to watch his stomach tighten and his breath stutter.
“You’re fucking hard for me already, detka,” I murmur, thumbing the damp head.
Caiden’s laugh is low and strained. “Yeah? Then do something about it.”
I drop to my knees, hitting the hard concrete floor with a thud, but I barely feel it. All I can focus on is the way his thighs tense as I hook my fingers into the waistband of his briefs. I drag them down and off with his trousers, freeing his cock. It bobs, fully hard now, the tip already dripping, his veins standing out along the shaft.
I lean in, breathing him in, and press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, just above his knee.
