4-Bound By Danger (8 page)

“Right.”

“Come on, Jace—I couldn’t drag you into this. You knew too much already. You live in this world. You of all people could cut me some slack.”

“I probably would’ve. Should. But I can’t.” Jace pushed away, told him, “You’ve got to go—I have an early morning.”

“I think you can handle PT after a late night.”

Jace didn’t answer, just bent down to pull his sweats up. Clint yanked them out of his hand and back down again, pressed their groins together and pinned him to the counter before Jace could stop him. Clint kissed the protest out of him, and maybe, for the first time in his life, planned on apologizing to someone he might be in a relationship with.

Before this, he’d barely acknowledged the men he was with, would tell them straight out that it was all about his work and no commitments. And if they couldn’t handle it—which none of them could for long, thanks to the constant missions away and barebones contact, if any at all—he moved on.

None of them could handle it except this boy, and he pulled his mouth off Jace’s and whispered, “Sorry, baby,” over and over into his neck. Said it until he felt Jace’s body relent for the second time and then added, “I didn’t think you’d find out before you got back.”

“You didn’t think I would’ve heard, no matter where I was?” Jace asked. “Or did you think I wouldn’t care?”

Clint didn’t want to answer that, mainly because he didn’t know how to. And Jace wisely didn’t push.

Clint kissed him again, his hands around the boy’s hips, pulling him forward so he could finger Jace’s ass, his own cock aching with need. He had lube in his pocket, because he’d known this would happen when he saw the boy, and now he snapped it open and put some on his fingers so he could enter the boy without hurting him.

Still, Jace clutched his neck, wound his calf around Clint’s thigh to spread himself wider and whimpered.

“So tight. Still so goddamned tight,” Clint murmured. “This is going to feel amazing around my dick, Jace. You’re going to ride this cock with your tight ass over and over, and you’re going to love it.”

“Yeah,” Jace grunted as a third finger worked inside of him, twisting, opening him…brushing his prostate and making him jump.

“You like that, pretty baby?” Clint murmured, and Jace whispered back, “Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.”

“Clint…” Jace said his name in a frustrated moan.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now, couldn’t I?” Clint asked. He was pushing it, but he had to. “I could hold you down and put another finger in you—maybe my whole hand, and you’d have to take it.”

Jace moaned and buried his head in Clint’s shoulder.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Even though you’re pissed at me, you’d let me tie you down and you’d fuck my arm.”

A strangled “Yes,” came from Jace’s throat, and in that instant, Clint knew he could love the man writhing under his touch. It nearly knocked him off his feet, scared him enough that he thought about running and not coming back.

Instead, without another word, he withdrew his fingers carefully and lifted Jace, threw him unceremoniously over his shoulder, asking, “Bedroom upstairs?”

“I don’t need a bed. Please. Anywhere. Floor, counter, doesn’t matter.”

“You just got back from three months of sleeping on the ground. It matters,” Clint said as he put him on the bed.

“Wait, you knew where I was?” Jace stared at him with an expression Clint couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah, the entire time. Done talking for now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Once in Jace’s bed, the two men dragged toward one another, their bodies finally crashing hard, melding together. Jace heard Clint’s clothes tear, and then the man used his own ripped shirt to tie Jace’s arms above his head and to the headboard.

Clint kissed him, held him, and Jace melted into his arms the way he always knew he would. He didn’t know what Clint being here actually meant, didn’t think he could right now. But Jace wouldn’t waste a single damned minute of this time, because every fucking fantasy of his over the past months had been about this guy.

But the things he did, with his hands and tongue…Jace was pretty sure he’d never had orgasms this damned strong, or this many. And Clint was leading him toward more, with Jace’s cock in his mouth, with several of Clint’s fingers in his ass, sliding back and forth, forcing Jace to work with Clint’s rhythm instead of his own.

“Dammit,” Jace muttered when Clint’s knuckle hit his prostate, and then Clint’s free hand circled the bottom of Jace’s cock, stopping him from shooting. “Fucking sadist.”

Clint chuckled before taking one of Jace’s balls and mouthing it with just enough pressure to make him whimper. Jace tugged at his bound wrists furiously, and before he could rip the fabric, Clint was up and burying his cock inside Jace. Slow and steady but not giving him any quarter, his heavy body holding Jace’s down, one hand on Jace’s bound wrists to stop him from getting himself free.

“I’ll tie your legs, too, if I have to,” Clint told him, and the moan slipped from Jace’s throat before he could stop himself.

“Fuck me now,” Jace rasped.

“Demanding sort, aren’t we?”

Before Jace could answer, Clint was taking him with a fever Jace would have to fight to keep up with.

And he did.

“Now.” Jace bucked up, forcing Clint’s thick cock deeper. Finally, Clint rocked harder and harder into him, until Jace’s balls drew up tight.

“That’s it, baby. Just come,” Clint urged.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Jace practically begged, making an effort to get the words out as Clint drove into him faster. Within minutes, Jace shot all over his stomach and chest with a loud groan.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stop. Got a lot of making up to do,” Clint muttered, more to himself than to Jace, but Jace didn’t plan on stopping him.

“Am I forgiven?” Clint whispered, his hand moving between their bodies to work Jace’s cock.

“So not fair,” Jace mumbled, or tried to, because honestly, what came out was pretty incoherent.

It made Clint smile, and the light was back in his eyes, the one that Jace swore he saw for the first time when they’d kissed in his undercover loft.

“That’s not an answer,” Clint persisted. “Don’t make me play dirty.”

Jace simply said, “Do what you have to.”

Chapter Nine

Clint took that as an invitation, studied the boy as he took him again, unable to get his fill, noted every nuance, every single breath the boy took. Every reaction put on file in his memory—because he wanted to please this kid more than he’d ever pleased anyone in his life. Wanted to take him higher, make him shout Clint’s name over and over, loudly enough to wake up everyone in the general vicinity. Wanted to mark him so no one else in Jace’s life even came close to this fucking. Ever.

Clint was being selfish as hell, and he didn’t care. He realized that he never wanted Jace to find someone else, and the possessiveness that gripped him scared the ever-living fuck out of him and made him want to hang on tighter.

This was supposed to be a one-night thing—a one-weekend thing. Officially, he was dead. But apparently Jace had the power to bring him back to life, and Clint wasn’t afraid to admit that it was an excellent thing.

But for how long? This boy could easily be his kryptonite, and beyond that, time would never be on his side while he was still in the CIA. Clint was hitting his prime in the organization. There may be younger guys, but he had gotten few injuries and his field experience was priceless.

He hadn’t worked this hard to throw it away, and he already knew his bloodlines would keep him from connecting to any one person for very long.

Rex glanced at his ringing phone and saw that it was Damon. The last time he’d spoken with his friend was during the mission, weeks ago. Now, he took the call on the back deck of his house that overlooked the beach, a beer in hand, and felt the familiar anger at what Jace had been going through. The kid had done his job—an excellent job—throwing himself into the work instead of focusing on his personal life.

“I didn’t say anything to him,” Rex told his friend after Damon said hello.

“Clint appreciates that.”

“So he finally went back to his old name? Tell him I didn’t do it for him. Asshole. Hope I get the chance to tell him to his face.”

Damon sighed. “What’s this really about, Rex?”

“Ah, don’t play amateur psychologist with me.”

“I’m your friend—I don’t have to play at anything. And you’re wound tighter than hell, tighter than last time I saw you when you were staring at the young SEAL on your team like you wanted to lock him up and protect him from the world.” Damon paused. “Hell, I want to do the same thing with Tanner, but I can’t.”

Rex took a long drink of beer and stared out across the dark sky, the rolling waves a soothing echo in the background. He’d known Damon for fifteen years, and even though they didn’t talk often, he knew the man understood. “I want Sawyer, but—”

“You’re being a complete asshole instead,” Damon finished.

“I didn’t think this would be that hard,” Rex admitted. “I’m scared, and he’s terrified. We’re a couple of fucking women.”

“Does he know about Josh?”

“He knows about the capture—nothing more.”

“Maybe it’s time he does,” Damon said. “I get you’re not into Domming anymore. I get that more than anyone, but those Dom instincts never really go away. They’re a part of you for a reason. Call on them and see if that helps at all.”

Damon had a damned good point. Rex had gone so far in the opposite direction from Domming these days, he often felt lost. Not using them with Josh, his former lover, hadn’t been a problem, but in this situation, well, being in control—taking control—was probably what would be best for both him and Sawyer.

He knew Sawyer and Jace had gotten close on their first mission that had gone goatfuck. It happened right after Rex had gotten there to take charge of the team, but he hadn’t been in on the planning of the mission they’d been in trouble on. They’d been lent to another team because of Sawyer’s sniping abilities and Jace’s expertise at demolition.

The helpless feeling of knowing those two were beyond rescue for an entire stretch of night in dangerous country had made Rex flash back to a horrible time of his own. He’d only known the two SEALs for a month, and he and Sawyer had connected instantly, an attraction he knew blew Sawyer away. He’d seen it in the boy’s eyes when they’d met, when Sawyer came into his office thinking the old CO was still there—he’d been pissed and was ripping into the guy, which Rex had to admit was more than fucking fair—and when Rex had taken off his hat and turned, Sawyer’s mouth kind of gaped open for a second. And it had nothing to do with being stunned that he was yelling at his new boss.

No, the attraction was palpable. Electric. Rex was still surprised they hadn’t kissed at that moment. He’d never believed in anything at first sight, because even lust needed a little time to grow, but since meeting Sawyer, he’d become a convert.

And then he’d spent the rest of their time working together yelling at the kid, who wasn’t really a kid at all, and wondering how Sawyer could be straight and still look at Rex the way he did.

Sawyer, with light brown hair that got streaks of blond whenever he was in the sun and a face that held enough of an edge to keep him from being classic all-American good-looking, all of which drew Rex to him constantly. Sawyer was constant movement to Rex’s solid stance; they balanced each other in the field, and Rex wondered if that balance would hold up in their personal lives.

But he hadn’t allowed himself to spend any off-duty time with Sawyer, held him at arm’s length.

Damon broke his reverie, saying, “Just so you know, I did tell Clint what you said.”

“And?”

“He’s with Jace now. For better or for worse. He knows as well as the rest of us that not all secrets are meant to be kept.”

At least something was right for someone on his team.

“Thanks, Damon. I’ll keep that in mind,” Rex told his friend before hanging up the phone…and he really tried to believe he meant it.

After they’d fucked each other senseless, Jace lay on his back on the mattress, Clint’s thigh thrown across his body in a show of possession that Jace both liked and hated.

“You need more of an apology, don’t you?” Clint asked.

“Don’t do that shit—don’t pretend you can read my mind.”

Clint propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at him. “I’m not right?”

“I really thought…fuck.” Jace rolled away and stared out the windows that overlooked the ocean from the second floor. He wondered why Clint’s faked death had affected him so badly after only several rolls with the guy.

But hell, he’d always known it was far more than that, even before it happened. Didn’t know why, and that’s probably what bothered him the most.

“You can’t choose who you fall in love with,” Sawyer would always say, mainly to justify the fact that he was a straight guy who’d fallen in love with another man.