03-Strength of the Mate (20 page)

“We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen then,” Adam said, with a hesitant smile. He crawled down the length of the bedroll. In two strides, Adam reached Dawson’s duffle, where Paul had set it the night before. He knew right where to find the bottle of lubricant.

Returning to the bedroll, Adam stepped over Dawson’s supine form. Dropping down to his knees, he straddled Dawson’s hips. He flexed his own hips slightly, rubbing his ass cheeks over Dawson’s erection, letting it slide through his cleft. Adam expected Dawson to make one of his typical witty remarks.

Dawson ran his palms up and down the length of Adam’s thighs. “I need to show you where I keep my stash of supplies.” His tone was serious. Dawson’s expression was still intense, and his eyes had gone from lavender to violet.

Adam had managed to turn Dawson’s attention from looking at him too closely, but the current mood was equally unnerving. Dawson’s words made it clear that he intended for them to keep doing this. His intent for Adam to become familiar with his personal space made things more…intimate…than Adam was ready for.

He didn’t reply. Instead, Adam slid backward until Dawson’s erection lay between his thighs. Something in Adam’s chest fluttered at the sight of Dawson’s cock curving against his belly. Dawson’s wasn’t unnaturally huge, but his size did explain why Adam was a little sore this morning.

Lifting Dawson’s erection with one hand, Adam poured a generous amount of lube over the head. Dawson hissed at the cold. The clear slick coated the dusky purple skin of Dawson’s cock. The head was flared, and the shaft was lined with thick, prominent veins. Adam tossed the bottle aside. He used both hands to spread the lube. The width of Dawson’s prick filled his palms, so that his thumbs only just lay over the tips of his fingers. He stacked one hand over the other, and Dawson’s cock still peeked out over his top finger. Adam stroked slowly, coating all of Dawson’s length in lubricant, and dragging sounds of pleasure from him.

Rising up slightly to move forward and position himself over Dawson’s erection, Adam reached one hand between his own thighs. He smeared some excess lube around his own clenched opening. It was slightly swollen, a little tender to the touch. He wasn’t anywhere close to being hurt.

Dawson gripped Adam’s hips, steadying him. “Are you sure?” he asked in a strained voice. His features were tight, his pupils blown wide. His mouth hung slack as he watched Adam intently.

As much as Dawson wanted this, Adam knew he would go no further if there was any chance Dawson would hurt him. “Positive.” He enjoyed having Dawson inside him.

Adam positioned Dawson’s cock against his hole. He lowered himself down, pushing steadily until the head slid inside abruptly. Adam gasped and Dawson hissed. He burned slightly, but it was all pleasure. Dawson held Adam’s hips tightly, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily.

Bracing his hands on Dawson’s chest, Adam rocked up and down steadily. He worked Dawson’s hard-on deeper inside himself. The lube spread, slickening the way, until he settled all the way down.

“Christ, that feels good,” Dawson groaned. He moved restlessly beneath Adam.

Adam agreed. He let his eyes drift shut as he circled his hips. Dawson’s cock pressed against sensitive places deep inside. He jolted slightly when Dawson’s hand encircled him, slowly stroking Adam’s erection.

“Mmm hmmm,” Adam agreed. He released a shaky breath. “How should I move?” he asked hastily.

“Anyway you want to.” Dawson’s answer was swift. “Do what feels good for you. Just let me watch you.”

That last request should worry Adam. He pushed it aside as he rocked back and forth, circling his hips, enjoying the feel of Dawson inside him. Dawson stroked him, slow and steady, still gripping Adam’s hip with his other hand. Adam canted his hips until Dawson’s shaft rubbed against his sweet spot.

Adam groaned, deep in his throat. His chest heaved with his every breath, his fingers curling into the muscles of Dawson’s chest. He was getting there fast. Dawson pressed his thumb into the underside vein in Adam’s dick, on each upward stroke. It felt like Dawson had studied up on exactly how to make Adam come.

“I can feel you getting close,” Dawson whispered. “You like this? Is this good for you?”

“Yeah,” Adam answered breathlessly. He was chasing his climax. He’d get there, but it might be better if he just…

Adam braced his hands above Dawson’s shoulders. The change in angle set off a shower of sparks in his skull. He rocked in and out of Dawson’s grip, and that sent him spiraling higher. Adam grunted each time he settled back on to Dawson’s cock, pushing it even deeper.

“What do you need?” asked Dawson. “Tell me what you like.”

Adam heard the demand in Dawson’s voice. It wasn’t a request. “Talk,” he answered hesitantly. Adam hated what his reply told Dawson about him. “Just…talk…”

Adam shouted when Dawson suddenly gripped the hair at the back of his head. He arched his neck as Dawson tugged his head back slightly. His scalp stung deliciously.

“You like it when I tell you how good your ass feels around my cock?” Dawson said in a raspy voice. “I gotta work to get past your tight hole. You make me earn it. Sweet ass is so smooth and hot inside. Can’t get enough of my cock, can you? Look at you, ridin’ me hard. Like it deep and hard, don’t you?”

A wave crested beneath Adam. He let his mouth fall open as he breathed heavily, feeling the wave break over him. Dawson’s hand was relentless on Adam’s cock, dragging him toward his climax. The dirty talk and Dawson’s raw voice reached into Adam and satisfied something he hadn’t known was there.

“You like to get fucked, huh? You like it when I fuck you, don’t you? Just look at you. You’re so fucking hot. I get so fucking turned on, watching you enjoy this. Watching you with my cock inside you.”

Adam’s climax slammed through him like a violent storm. “Oh fuck,” he said through clenched teeth. Adam arched his back. Dawson’s grip in his hair tilted his head back even further, baring his vulnerable throat. “Oh god…oh god…” Adam chanted. His balls hugged his body tight, his cock pulsing. His body convulsed, vibrating around Dawson’s cock.

“Christ, it feels good to be inside you when that happens,” Dawson said with a hint of wonder in his voice.

Adam’s orgasm released his body. He tilted forward on his weakened elbows, struggling to breathe.

Adam was pulled down onto Dawson’s body. Dawson used his grip in Adam’s hair to press Adam’s face against his neck. He wrapped his other arms around Adam’s back. His grip was powerful. He held Adam in place, their chests pressed together.

Dawson pushed his hips upward, burying his cock all the way inside of Adam. Adam groaned in pleasure. He relaxed against Dawson’s frame, clutching at his shoulders. He breathed heavily against Dawson’s damp skin, enjoying the rough, hard slide of Dawson’s cock in his hole. Adam could tell by Dawson’s erratic rhythm that he was close.

With a final, hard thrust, Dawson froze. He moaned, long and low, as his cock pulsed against the rim of Adam’s hole. He held Adam in place with strong hands, as his body vibrated. Adam thought he caught a few swear words, but he couldn’t be sure. He held tight to Dawson’s shoulders and enjoyed the feel of him coming.

Finally, Dawson sighed deeply, his body relaxed and his arms fell away. Adam stayed in place, not sure he had enough control of his limbs to move.

“I’m gonna roll you over,” Dawson finally whispered against Adam’s ear.

Adam straightened his leg and Dawson deftly rolled them both until Adam was on his back. Dawson carefully pulled out of Adam’s body. The air was cool against the various patches of drying come, but Adam couldn’t bring himself to move to get cleaned up.

Beside him, Dawson moved. Adam listened to him moving around the room. He reappeared, kneeling between Adam’s spread legs.

“This is going to be cold,” Dawson said in a quiet voice.

Adam jumped slightly at the feel of something wet and cool. He opened his eyes slightly and saw Dawson using baby wipes to clean off the drying come.

“I’m not helpless,” Adam said. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t slurred his words.

“I know. But I really like you like this,” replied Dawson.

“Broken?” Adam chuckled.

“Because I broke you.” Dawson straightened the blankets and used them to cover Adam. “I gotta get dressed. The guys’ll be here soon. Stay here as long as you need.” He smoothed a hand over Adam’s hair.

Adam could only grunt in reply.

Dawson dressed quietly. Adam drifted, not quite falling asleep, but not completely aware of his surroundings. At the soft knock on the door, he turned on to his side and burrowed under the blankets.

“Morning, gents,” he heard Dawson say. “Ready to go?” The door closed quietly.

Adam had nothing to do until the Marines revised their security protocols. He’d check in with Armando later in the morning, see if they were ready to schedule another briefing. He was still a little fuzzy from sleep and sex, but Adam’s math told him if he called Tim around eight this morning, they’d have time to talk before it got too late back in the States.

As he dozed, Adam could hear the familiar sounds of the base waking up. There was something strangely comforting in the unbroken routines. Adam had a lot he needed to deal with. The typical intense activity of the Marines meant he could do that in anonymity. Thank Christ.

§ § §

The brightness inside Dawson’s hooch told Adam he couldn’t hide out any longer. He had to step outside, so he could get back to his own trailer. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of calling his brother was irrational. Adam knew it. He still couldn’t shake it.

Slowly crawling out from beneath the blankets, he glanced around for his discarded clothing. He smiled when he spotted them, neatly folded, laying on Dawson’s bunk. He dressed quickly, in yesterday’s clothes. Adam was definitely ready to get into fresh, clean clothing. He didn’t envy Tim, Dawson, and all Marines who served in combat situations where they couldn’t shower regularly, and spent weeks at a time in the same uniform.

Adam headed for the door. He stopped short when he caught sight of the messy pile of blankets on the floor. He remembered every time Tim had irritated the hell out of him by making his bed and tidying his house before he left. Adam had always left a mess in his wake. Yeah, he was impatient and lazy, but mostly, he knew it pissed Tim off.

Christ, he could be so damn immature sometimes. He knew he couldn’t do as good a job making the bed as Dawson would, but he could make it neat and tidy. He was in his thirties now, time to be a damn grown up.

It only took a couple of minutes to straighten, smooth and fold bedding. He neatly stacked the pillows. Standing back, Adam realized he hadn’t done too badly. He’d made the effort, at least. Dawson would realize that.

Pulling the locked door closed behind him, Adam headed for the bathroom trailers to pee. He’d brush his teeth with bottled water when he was back at his own hooch. He walked slowly, like this was just another morning. He stood straight, his shoulders back, determined not to look like he wanted to run and hide.

Two Marines drew near, heading toward the hooches. Adam forced himself to make eye contact. He’d be damned if he was gonna act ashamed. Last night was like any other night in Camp Fallujah.

Adam was about to call a greeting to the Marines, when they beat him to it. “Hey, Madison,” said one of them. “’Morning, Madison,” the second one called.

“’Morning,” he replied reflexively, too surprised to give any other response. Adam didn’t think he’d met either one of them, but they knew his name. They both looked relaxed, their smiles seemed genuine. It didn’t seem like they were taunting him.

Inside the trailer, Adam sighed in relief as he pissed. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and rejoiced at the pleasurable sensation of an emptying bladder. Sometimes the simple pleasures were the greatest.

He stepped to the small sink to wash his hands and glanced up into the mirror. Adam froze at the sight. His throat was covered in dark purple bruises. Love bites his mind supplied. It was an appropriate name in this case, too. A few of the bruises were small and round, obviously the result of Dawson’s fangs. Jesus Christ, he was covered in them. And they were very obvious.

Adam wet his hands and ran them through his hair. He straightened and smoothed it, making himself look a little less freshly fucked. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about the hickeys though. He was wearing his only collared shirt, and it did nothing to cover the majority of the marks.

Well, hell. Everyone who saw him would know he’d gotten laid last night. The werewolves would know he’d gotten fucked by Dawson Rivers. How the hell had he gotten himself into this fucking mess?

On his way to his own hooch, Adam encountered a few more Marines. Each of them greeted him politely, by name. He watched closely for any signs of judgment or derision, but he found none.

Despite that, Adam was glad when he reached his hooch and could quickly dart inside. His eyes adjusted and he noticed that Mario wasn’t there. His luck seemed to be holding, for now.

Adam stuffed his dirty clothes into the canvas bag he used for that purpose. It felt good to have clean clothes against his skin, again. All he had was jeans, Carhart pants, and T-shirts, so there was no disguising the prominent marks on his neck. It served him right, having to deal with this. He hadn’t stopped Dawson. Adam wasn’t a teenager, he knew how hickeys were made and what they looked like. Having to deal with this now would remind him to stop Dawson next time.

Next time. Fuck. Adam needed to figure out if he even wanted there to be a next time. If he walked away now, it would be a hell of a lot less humiliating when Dawson decided to move on.

Adam grabbed his dopp kit and a fresh bottle of water. Standing on the top step to his hooch, he quickly brushed his teeth. Spitting the rinse water into the dirt, Adam finally felt refreshed. He thought he might have a chance to deal with all this shit, now.

He retrieved his sat-phone from his duffle, dialing Tim’s cell phone number. It wasn’t quite eight, yet, but that was okay. That meant it was even earlier in California.