Page 168 of Oddly Fine

And that was the most ridiculous fucking thing he’d ever fucking heard—so, naturally, that meant it had to be what had pissed her off.

He stared after her a few seconds longer, mouth agape.

“If you’re looking for me—I’ll be in the shower—attempting to flay myself to death with a washcloth and that insanely expensive shower gel you always buy,” Beckett said, dragging his feet as he headed towards the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to wash behind your ears!” Hayes advised because he was a fucking pain in Beckett’s ass.

And not the sexy goddamned kind, either.

Hayes found him there a short while later. While Beckett lingered beneath the spray, forearms leaning against the tile, letting the water pound against the back of his neck, Hayes slipped in behind him. Beckett didn’t say anything at first when Hayes’ arms encircled his waist and pulled him back against him. He just hummed—exceedingly pleased to feel Hayes’ hard cock pressed against his ass.

“Let’s never leave home again,” Beckett moaned. He felt the vibrations of Hayes’ laugh against his back.

“I’m serious. It’s nothing but hellfire and chaos out there,” he complained.

Hayes didn’t reply, too busy pressing soft kisses to the skin of his throat, then behind his ears. He bit gently down on Beckett’s trapezius muscles, making him shudder with a weird combination of pleasure and pain. Hayes’ hands constantly roamed over his skin—both the unscathed and the bruised—applying a deliciously perfect amount of pressure.

“If this is where I die, I’d do so happily,” he said, blissed out by Hayes’ ministrations. It felt like an eternity since they’d been alone together like this. Home sweet home, indeed!

“You’re too fucking dramatic for your own good,” Hayes scolded but Beckett could hear the smile in his voice. He’d snaked a hand around Beckett’s waist and wrapped a hand around Beckett’s noticeably interested cock.

He moaned as Hayes began to jack him slowly.

“I could have died at least a thousand times for people I’d never met, based solely on the whims of Uncle Sam—” Beckett said, breathing raggedly as Hayes expertly worked his dick. “A guy can only dream of dying with his soulmate’s cock buried in his ass.”

And it was too much. His declaration had a dramatic impact on Hayes, because suddenly, the slow build to ecstasy turned into something far more carnal and urgent. Beckett found himself pressed to the tile, as two lubed up fingers breached him with little care for tenderness.

“Stabbing’s a good way to go, too!” Beckett exclaimed with a crazed laugh as Hayes rammed his fingers into him again and again. Although the sensation was somewhat painful, like some of his injuries he’d yet to recover from, at least this pain was sweet and addictive.

Hayes’ other hand tightened around his cock, and he quickened his movements when Beckett began panting and moaning, wanting to drive him ever higher towards release.

“I’m not going to last,” Beckett warned.

“Then don’t. You wanted to die, didn’t you?” Hayes chuckled. Beckett moaned as he began the last climb towards his orgasm. Hayes added another finger and began spreading him open. Beckett banged his head against the tile, barely able to speak as Hayes’ right hand jacked him mercilessly, and his left pushed against his prostate hard enough to make him see stars.

“I need you,” Beckett mewled, feeling right on the edge.

“I won’t stop if I start,” Hayes warned, pulling his fingers from Beckett’s ass.

Beckett groaned pitifully at the loss, channel clenching around nothing, his quest to achieve orgasm leaving him breathless.

“Whatever, yes. Please. Please,” Beckett begged.

Hayes had stopped jacking him, but he began again slowly as he pressed the tip of his cock to Beckett’s entrance.

“Tell me again,” Hayes said, breath warm against Beckett’s ear.

Tell him? Tell him what? Beckett couldn’t think. His tongue felt too wide in his mouth, his head filled with cotton.

“I love you, I love you. Please—” he begged, uncertain what it was that Hayes had wanted to hear.

“No,” he said, biting Beckett’s lobe. “Call me that again—” he purred, his cock teasing Beckett as he ran it up and down the crease of his ass.

And Beckett was either a genius, or his body was so desperate for release that a few remaining neurons fired long enough for him to come up with the magic word.

“Soulmate,” he breathed out. That was what had sent Hayes’ mind tilting and triggered this sexual frenzy. Soulmate. Like a two-piece puzzle. Two halves of a whole. Beckett had said it teasingly at the time, unaware that it would have such a powerful impact on his boyfriend. It was not funny now.

“I want to die on my soulmate’s cock—” he huffed, turning his head against the tile to catch Hayes’ hungry gaze. “If he’ll hurry up and fuck me already.”