Page 48 of Black and Brown

Criminals charged from all sides.

The system was so high-tech Grace could see the sweat on the brow and the murderous intent in the eyes of the holograms.

He and Mirage stayed attached, moving in perfect synchronicity and stealth as they disposed of their enemies with calculated exactness.

Red lights flashed around them, confirming the countless deaths left in their wake.

Mirage

The training continued for another hour as Spectre sent wave after wave of increasingly difficult opponents. But he and Grace never faltered.

Once the program reached its climax, they stood in a vast field, surrounded by a small army of hostiles.

The air was redolent with the odor of gunpowder, and the ground was littered with bullet shells and bodies of the fallen.

Mirage and Grace stood chest-to-back, their weapons aimed and ready.

Spectre sent all the holographs charging at once, the numbers damn near overwhelming.

They fought with everything they had. Grace was firing overhead and around Mirage’s back so fast that his arms were a blur as his bullets tore through virtual flesh.

Mirage hated to admit it, but Grace’s merciless brutality was turning him the fuck on.

By the time the last round came to an end, the computer showed that Grace had been grazed in the shoulder by a bullet, but it didn’t affect his mindset or agility, and Mirage had taken a few kicks and punches to his back as he defended his partner from behind.

The model had been a grueling test and given valuable insight into what lay ahead.

After the session, Mirage went to their personal locker room while Grace spoke with their weapons specialist about upgrading his firearms with a laser sight.

He didn’t know when he wrapped that up, but Mirage didn’t see or hear him in the showers.

Attempting to avoid Grace, Mirage got into the hot tub to soak his muscles.

Those simulations were so realistic that the exertion needed to fight and defeat it was almost equivalent to an actual battle.

He reclined in the steaming depths and rested his head on a thick towel balanced on the edge of the tub.

After several minutes, his body began to relax, and the rapid pounding of his temple slowed.

Mirage groaned long and loud. Fuck, that feels good.

“I suggest you don’t make that sound again.”

Shit.

Mirage’s cock took notice of Grace’s voice before his mind did.

He hoped his boxers concealed his predicament, and Grace couldn’t see his hardness beneath the churning water.

Mirage opened his eyes to see Grace standing on the stairs to the tub with a short white towel cinched low on his hips.

Every inch of Grace was sculpted perfection, from his broad shoulders and chiseled chest to his tight waist and strong thighs.

His partner was a living Michelangelo masterpiece.

Mirage was expressionless as if he were unaffected by Grace’s presence. Until Grace pulled his towel off and tossed it behind him.

Mirage almost swallowed his fucking tongue.