Chapter Three

Pierce

 

“When it comes to my men, there isn’t a fucking ‘need-to-know basis’ and I don’t give a fuck about plausible deniability! Neither my men nor I are concerned with legal repercussions. So don’t tell me you’re protecting us by withholding valuable information!” Call was tearing Pierce a new asshole for not being completely forthcoming with everything he knew.

“Those men had AK12s. Russian machine guns. Something my team and I were not informed of. If it hadn’t been for Hawk, a couple of my men could’ve been killed!” Call fumed.

“Your men are not so easy to kill, Call,” Pierce said nonchalantly.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, because before Pierce could blink, the SEAL had his forearm up against his throat and was throwing him against the wall in a matter of seconds. He moved quickly and quietly. All Pierce could do was gag and grasp nervously at the thick arm cutting off his air supply. Pierce’s eyes were bulging with fear and he vaguely registered Shot calling to his commanding officer to release him.

“The bullets from those fucking guns can pierce Kevlar, smart ass!” Call roared in his face. “We should’ve been prepared. If you enjoy breathing, you better never withhold inform–”

A loud ‘what the fuck?’ came from near the door seconds before Call was being gripped around his own neck. Pierce was scared and dangerously deprived of oxygen, but he’d recognize those colorful tattooed sleeves on Hawk’s arms in his sleep.

“Get your fucking hands off of him,” Hawk snapped.

He yanked Call away from Pierce and threw him back against the small desk in the conference room. Call recovered quickly and came back around to Hawk’s front. The two men were equally matched. Both standing at six-three, six-four, heavily muscled and masterfully trained. “Stand down Hawk. That’s an order.”

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you,” Hawk snarled. “You are a man of honor. You’re using your physical dominance on a civil servant. I have every right to intervene.”

Shot had moved between them and was staring Call in the eye. “He’s right and you know it. Walk it off soldier. I’ll talk with Backhander. We’ll rendezvous at 0700 tomorrow.”

Call walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Hawk turned and knelt down in front of Pierce. He brought his hand out and Pierce unconsciously flinched at the action. He immediately felt sorry for that reaction when he noticed the hurt expression on Hawk’s gorgeous face. Pierce was a genius, not a soldier. He was beyond tired of being surrounded by big men who thought it was okay to push him around whenever they saw fit.

“I’d never hurt you. You know that,” Hawk whispered. Pierce saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Could Hawk really be different? He was huge too. He could squash Pierce’s lithe, five-foot eight frame if he pissed him off too. Hawk was a soldier, a warrior. Hell, he might even have some degree of PTSD – most of those Special Forces men did. How could he be sure that as soon as he dropped his guard and got in the man’s bed, he wouldn't end up getting the shit choked out of him while he slept? That was why he persistently rebuffed Hawk’s frequent advances.

“Let me help you,” Hawk insisted.

Pierce put his smaller hand in Hawk’s and was easily lifted to his feet, wobbling slightly from the rush of oxygen trying to replenish his body.

“Easy,” Hawk said gently.

Pierce's hand went to his sore throat. He saw Hawk frown and place his hand over his, carefully rubbing the burning skin.

“What the hell has gotten into Call?” Hawk turned and growled at his second in command.

“You know damn well what, and so does your boy toy here,” Shot responded while pulling the chair out at the small metal table.

“He’s not my boy–”

“Save it for someone who gives a fuck, Hawk.” Shot turned and looked at Pierce, his hard, dark eyes shooting daggers into Pierce's brain. He pointed his long trigger finger at the uncomfortable looking chair. “Sit down and talk Backhander, and I’m not going to say it again. I don’t care if your bodyguard is here or not. Because honestly, he can’t beat my ass, not even on his best day and my worst, so sit the fuck down and start talking.”

Pierce still had one hand on Hawk’s shoulder and the other lightly touching his own throat. He tilted his head way up and looked at his rescuer, his eyes now glowing with more gold than purple flecks.

“Sit down, Pierce and tell us what’s going on, okay? Shot, Call or any of us, we won't stand for being led into a situation that we’re not fully prepared to handle,” Hawk said quietly while guiding him over to the seat.

Pierce knew that he should’ve told the Beastmasters that the men they were going to apprehend were also indebted to the Russian Mob, but he had superiors, too. His orders were that he give the Beastmasters only need-to-know information. But in his defense, he didn’t have intelligence that Sherminsky would be traveling with his own personal arsenal.

So far, Pierce had done an excellent job of orchestrating these missions, which resulted in few casualties, none of which were on their team. They only had one more op to run, out of the country, before Pierce could leave all this bullshit behind him. What the fuck? This is my last mission anyway.

After Pierce finished debriefing Shot and Hawk regarding every piece of information he had on their current target and the next one, Pierce was exhausted. They’d been in the conference room for three-and-half hours. He didn’t miss that Hawk went and got him a cold bottle of water every thirty minutes until he was finished. His throat hurt like a bitch. After this was all said and done, it would be too fucking soon if he never saw Call again. As far as Pierce was concerned, the man was an emotionally unstable bully. It was a shocking conclusion since the man used to be the epitome of calm and he had enjoyed working beside him. Now he’d finish this mission, go home, and hope to never see the Beastmasters again.

He told one of his IT guys that he’d be in one of the upstairs rooms resting and to call him when they got something. They were tracking Valenzo’s wife over half of the East Coast. She was last spotted at Miami International eight hours ago. It was believed she had knowledge of Valenzo’s business dealings from prison and knew where his millions had been stashed. Since Valenzo was popped by Backhander before he could make his deal with the Russians, he’d disappeared into prison owing them just a little shy of thirty million dollars. Mrs. Valenzo was doing so much traveling and partying, it was assumed she had access to those funds. They needed to get to her before the Russians did, in turn snatching them up or running them back across the seas. Their smuggling and arms dealing days in the United States were about to be over.

Pierce was in a dead sleep on the uncomfortable bed when he heard the door to his small room pop open. His head shot up as he took in Hawk’s large frame. He only had on low-riding jeans and boots – no shirt. Pierce was sure that the man heard the gulp he struggled to get down his throat when he took in the defined pecs, hard abs, large tattooed arms, and eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness.

“I thought I locked the door,” Pierce said as his greeting.

“You did,” Hawk’s deep voice responded. “Do you think three-inch thick reinforced steel can stop me from getting to you, gorgeous?”

“I don’t like it when you talk to me like that Hawk. Why are you breaking into my room?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

Pierce jumped out of the bed and began sliding his feet back into his black Doc Martens. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Have there been any new developments?” He waited a couple seconds, but after he heard no response, he turned to look at the man who was once again slowly invading his personal space. Pierce scrubbed his hands over the two-day old stubble on his face. He couldn’t deal with Dane Aramis and his incessant flirtation right now. “Jesus, fuck.”

“You shouldn’t use such language, pretty man.” Hawk turned up one side of his mouth in that sexy way that Pierce secretly hated because it immediately made him pop one-quarter wood.

“Fuck you. And stop calling me pretty. I’m not a broad,” he argued back.

Before Pierce could think of anything else to say, he found himself being aggressively thrust against the wall by Hawk’s brawn. His large chest keeping him pinned in place, Pierce's arms held in a vise-like grip secured to his sides. He took in a large gulp of air and got a huge lungful of Hawk’s scent. He smelled like motor oil and aftershave. If Pierce knew the man at all, he’d say Hawk had been working on his Ducati while he was asleep.

“What the fuck, Hawk?”

“Shhh.”

“Shhh, hell. Get off me. What the fuck is with you all? Is it throw the little guy around day? Do you guys get off on pushing people around that are smaller than you?”

Pierce had to keep his head turned or else his lips would land right in the center of Hawk’s sternum. “Back off,” he growled.

“You think I think you’re a woman? I know you’re not, because I don’t fuck women.”

“Well we don’t have shit in common – because I do.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I don’t know why you think I’m gay, or how many fucking times I have to say that I’m not.” Pierce craned his neck to look up and quickly regretted it. Hawk’s eyes were sparkling and radiant. The purple now more evident – and it was so damn exotic. He’d never seen anything like it. Holy fuck. Breathe. Pierce tried to look away but couldn’t, he tried to budge, but couldn’t, he tried to free his arms, but couldn’t.

“You’re right. I do get off when I have you under my will.” Hawk leaned down and ran his bristly cheek over his hair and down the side of his face until he was at his ear, “And under my body.”

Breathe goddamnit.

Pierce tried to shake his head to gather what it was he wanted to say next but nothing was coming to mind. Oh yeah. “You can throw me around all you want, but it doesn’t turn me on at all. All it does is remind me of all the bullies that used to shove me in lockers and push me down in the halls in school.”

“I’d never hurt you, baby. I just want to make you feel good,” Hawk whispered. “Will you let me do that? I can feel that you want me too.” Hawk accompanied his words with a slight thrust of his pelvis. His prominent erection nudging just above Pierce’s navel. “I can feel your heartbeat; I can see the desire in your eyes when you look at me. Why do you keep fighting me?”

“Because I don’t like you,” Pierce said as firmly as he could. Within seconds he noticed how every one of Hawk's muscles that was in contact with his body tensed against him. He first released his arms before he began to back up, and Hawk didn’t stop until he was completely on the other side of the room.

The pain that Pierce saw in Hawk’s eyes rocked him to his core. Not only did he immediately miss the heat of Hawk’s sexy body, but he didn’t mean for what he said to end at that. He wanted to say he didn’t like Hawk pushing him around. Why did big guys need to do that? Why were military men so fucked up?

“You don’t like me.” Hawk’s eyes were everywhere but on Pierce now. The purple flecks almost a deep shade of violet. Hawk was hurt, perhaps. Pierce didn’t know – shit he didn’t want to know. He couldn’t let Hawk rearrange his plans. Getting involved with the SEAL would mean too many complicated feelings that Pierce didn’t want to ever feel again – especially the physical ones.

He’d been a geeky virgin all through high school. No one giving him the time of day – guys or girls. If he wasn’t being shoved into a bathroom and beat on like a piñata, then he was being ridiculed in front of everyone. It wasn’t until his junior year in college that Pierce found himself assigned to tutor one of the defensive ends for the Notre Dame football team. Pierce was a Physics major and had been a TA since his sophomore year. Jackson was a huge man and very handsome. He didn’t waste any time coming on strong to Pierce; making his body light up like a firework. Telling Pierce how beautiful he was, exactly what he’d do to his pink lips, soft face, and bubble ass. He showered Pierce with compliments constantly, saying if he wasn’t being scouted to be drafted to the NFL, he’d make Pierce his boyfriend.

Pierce was always attracted to the big guys, probably because he was so small. Some might not think five-eight is short, but it kinda is, for a man. Pierce wanted to be picked up and held against a wall like you see them do in movies. But shit like that doesn’t happen in real life. Well, Jackson decided to pop Pierce’s cherry the way big guys like to. As soon as the man got Pierce alone in his apartment, he was on him. There was no movie and pizza like he said there’d be. Being a virgin, Pierce was getting just as hot as Jackson was – at first. As they tumbled their way to the small futon in Jackson’s room he was hefted off his feet and thrown onto the thin mattress liked he weighed less than paper, damn near breaking his back.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Jacks. I’m not going to run away.” Pierce let out a nervous chuckle.

“You’ve made me beg you for weeks to get you into my bed, and I’m about to take full advantage.” Jackson smirked.

Pierce didn’t know if Jackson was playing or what. His pants were forcefully yanked off without even being unbuttoned, his Vans flying off with them. When Jackson took off his shirt and pants, his huge cock jutting out at attention, Pierce thought he’d throw up from the nerves he felt. He’d seen smaller cocks in adult porn, not the kind that was aimed at college guys. Jackson’s chest was massive and his tree trunk size thighs looked like they could crack his skull if he stuck it in between them.

Jackson let out a full belly laugh at Pierce’s look of wide-eyed terror. “You want to suck it first? Is that it?” Jackson's eyes turned dark.

Pierce shook his head ‘no’ so hard that he got an instant headache, but that didn’t stop Jackson from grabbing his shoulders and forcing his head down low. At the first deep thrust of Jackson’s cock down his throat, Pierce gagged hard, fighting to not throw up.

“Yeah, choke on my cock. Don’t be shy. I know mine is not the first dick in those sexy lips of yours,” Jackson snarled.

Pierce wanted to argue the inaccuracy of that fact but his mouth was too full.

When Pierce was finally released, he begged Jackson to stop. He told him that he’d made a mistake and he didn’t think this was going to work. The bewilderment on Jackson’s face gave Pierce enough time to scramble to the other side of the room.

“What the fuck you mean ‘a mistake’? So you don’t want to fuck anymore?” Jackson’s face was contorted by rage and Pierce couldn’t help the tremble that started in his legs and worked its way up to his chest.

“You said we were going to watch a movie and talk. I didn’t think you’d come in here and act like a caveman.” Pierce used both his hands to cover his soft genitals and balls as he tried to shrink into the wall, because currently a huge six-foot three, three hundred pound lineman was blocking the only exit.

“Oh come on, you’re too smart to be so stupid. You know what the fuck ‘watch a movie’ means.”

“Yeah, it means pop in a DVD and watch the film. Not get tossed around like a ragdoll,” Pierce argued.

“Fine. You want me to be gentler. Treat you like a pretty lady.” Jackson quickly advanced on him again. “Sorry, but I don’t do females.”

Pierce just barely got his hands up before he was shoved back onto the bed again. The air left his body in a harsh breath when all those muscles and pounds landed on top of him with a crushing thud.

“I. Said. No. I. Want to Leave,” Pierce said loudly, his mind going into survival mode. Jackson lived in an apartment building with paper-thin walls. He’d scream his head off until the cops came if he had to.

Jackson must have taken note of Pierce’s tone and thought the same thing about his neighbors hearing something. “Get your cock-teasing ass out of my crib. Don’t let me see you around campus, and you’re not my Trig tutor anymore either.”

Jackson didn’t have to say another word and Pierce wasn’t going to argue. He hopped into his pants so fast that he didn’t even realize they were inside out until he’d run clear across the campus, back to his dorm and was safe inside his room.

“What happened to you?” his roommate said when he barged through the door.

“A huge fucking reality check,” Pierce said through clenched teeth before closing himself in the bathroom.

Ever since Jackson, Pierce had stayed away from what he’d desired most. He had blowjobs from a few of his female dates, even managed to think about Mark Wahlberg long enough to fuck a couple of them from behind, but after one humiliating encounter where he couldn’t stay hard, he let his right hand be his only source of pleasure.

“Where’d you go?” Hawk's deep voice was right in front of him.

Pierce’s head snapped back to the here and now. “I said to back off!” he yelled when he noticed that Hawk was back in his space again.

“Jesus, man.” Hawk put both hands up in surrender while inching backward again. Pierce watched him shake his head at him as if pitying him. “And you say were the ones fucked up in the head. I’m not the one that just zonked out on a flashback. Am I?”

Pierce huffed. Pissed more so at himself for having just done that in front of Hawk. “Just get out.”

“Gladly.” Hawk turned to the door and Pierce’s mouth filled with saliva at the massive wings that were tattooed on the man’s muscular back. He got to the door but paused after opening it. He turned and slammed Pierce against the wall again with a golden glare, making his body shiver. “For future reference, you better put an eye on that lip, Backhander.”

Pierce crossed both arms over his significantly smaller chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means watch your fucking mouth.” Hawk’s pupils contracted to pinpoints, his entire eye now appearing like a ball of fire. When Hawk closed the door behind him, Pierce blew out a huge gust of breath.