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“That was…” Holden uncurled his fingers as though his hand had been welded to Tyler’s cock. He drew patterns in the semen on Tyler’s belly before bringing his finger to his lips. “Mmm.” He sucked and Tyler watched, enthralled, his dick already surging with renewed interest.
Holden smiled at him. Then he slid down Tyler’s body and Tyler watched as Holden licked around the rim of his cock and ran his tongue over his belly, lapping at Tyler’s cum.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath, feathering his fingers through Holden’s silvering hair.
“You’re getting hard again.”
“So I am. You drive me fucking wild, Holden. No one ever got me as hard as you in my entire life.”
Holden’s smile was shy and he actually blushed.
“And when you were inside me,” Tyler continued, unable to be anything but hopelessly honest, “no one ever fucked me like that before. It was kind of something I just had to suck up before. That’s why I didn’t really do it.”
Holden watched him from beneath his lashes. He planted soft kisses on Tyler’s belly. His eyes were tender and misty. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“You have no idea.”
Holden laughed. He slid up and rested his head on Tyler’s chest. “You’re something else, no matter which way around we do it,” he said. “Any way you want, any time, that’s fine by me. Whatever you want. I’m yours.”
Their gazes held before they both stretched for a kiss. Tyler considered how lucky he was. While he was broken, Holden was too. They were two damaged and needy souls finding solace with each other. They had a difficult road ahead of them—he was under no illusions about that—but they had each other and he wanted Holden to be a part of his life for as long as he could have him.
“Let’s sell the stamp and buy a new house somewhere,” Holden said.
Tyler regarded him. “You don’t want to stay here?” He wasn’t surprised.
“I don’t want to live in the house Finn almost died in, no,” Holden replied. “And maybe Dominic fucking Bateman’s ghost haunts the place.”
“Hope he enjoyed the show we put on then,” Tyler said. “I’m guessing he won’t get too much action in hell, unless you count being raped by Satan for all eternity.” They both had a chuckle at that. He hoped maybe he could tell that joke to Finn one day. Then again, perhaps not.
“Do you want to stay here?” he asked. “In Clear Water Creek?”
Holden hesitated. “Yeah, I think so. I like the peace. Even though the sheriff hates me. But I’m easy. Whatever you want. Wherever you want to go.”
A thought occurred to Tyler then. “What if the stamp’s a fake?”
Holden shrugged. “We’ll get it appraised. If it is, it is. No biggie. Doesn’t change how I feel about you and how I want to keep you around.” He regarded Tyler for long moments. “If you can cope with me.”
Tyler swallowed. “I can. I want to. I want to more than anything.”
Holden kissed him. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Tyler shook his head and tried to speak and Holden laid fingers over his mouth. “Yes, I am.”
They looked at each other in silence, no words needed, and Tyler thought finally, that it had been worth surviving Afghanistan if Holden was what he found at the end of that long road back.
Epilogue
Six months later
Tyler
Tyler threw open the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. The lawn stretched down to a river at the back of the house, the yard full with mature trees and shrubs, most of them now winter bare and covered with a thick layer of snow. One of them stood out though, a huge Nordic fir tree, just perfect to hang Christmas lights on. Tyler would make that his next job, if Holden let him.
Holden had already shooed him away when Tyler had tried to help with lugging his huge new antique writing desk up to the second floor. It was what they had paid movers for, Holden said, and Tyler should go take a break. Even with the new leg, Holden liked him to take it easy. Tyler would take it easy when he was dead.
He fastened the windows shut and looked around the master suite with admiration. Decorated in shades of silver, gold and cream, it was a touch flashy for his taste, but Holden liked it enough to want to keep the décor. Their king size was already set up in the middle, with the nightstands dumped haphazardly next to it and a few suitcases scattered around. The suite was so large that Holden had ordered a chaise longue to go on the far side, with a chair and an occasional table. Tyler snorted, eyeing the luxurious silver velvet and ornate legs on the thing. A fucking chaise longue. Where did Holden think he was, eighteenth century France?
He busied himself carrying the suitcases into the adjoining walk-in closet, where they would be out of sight out of mind, because he had no intention of starting on them now. If it was up to him, he’d probably live out of them for a couple of weeks before he got around to emptying them, but he suspected Holden would have something to say about that.
Something made him glance at the chaise longue again when he reentered the main room. Okay, he’d try it out. Maybe it might be nice for a slouch during the day with a book, or a snooze in front of the fire that definitely needed lighting because it was a chilly day, but where were the logs?
