Ding. Spencer’s email chimed with a new message right as he was about to put the finishing touches on a piece about a blind runner doing the LA marathon. He almost didn’t click over to the email window, but...it could be his agent. After his meeting with Naval PR, he’d taken his epiphany about the story he wanted to write and drafted a proposal for his agent to look over.
But a second glance at the message notification showed that the sender was scorpion_bait. Del. Bacon. Whoever he was to Spencer these days, he was damn important, and it had been a while since his last message, making Spencer far more antsy than he liked. His pulse sped up even before he hit Open.
You were smart to avoid a transport flight home. I’m staring down twelve hours in a C-130J but I can honestly say I’ve rarely been so excited about jumpseats and exhausted teammates. Ready to be home for a few weeks, regroup. Speaking of... How would you like some company? A long drive sounds like the perfect way to reward my truck for waiting patiently for me. I could be there Thursday early evening if you want, or later on in the weekend if you’ve got plans Thursday. I’ve got some leave to burn. Or maybe you’re not interested at all, which is cool too. I’m sure I can find some trouble to get in closer to home ;) But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing you again.
Got a plane to catch,
Del
This was where Spencer should say he had plans. He had Flor’s party Friday night, not that Flor would care if he brought a guest...
But this was insanity. Better to tell Del he was busy. Like permanently busy. Let him get drunk and laid back in Coronado.
But then Spencer’s brain bombarded him with images of some faceless person kissing Bacon, getting all that intensity he brought to bed, getting to call him Del, lips tracing those intriguing tattoos, fingers holding him close, throat moaning because of his relentless touch. And damn, but he wanted it to be him. Wanted to be the one to light Del up, get to see his private self. Wanted to cook for him, watch his face when he tried the wine, run to the grocery so he could make him the meal he’d described. Spoil him a little, because he deserved that, and maybe he could pick up a decent lay back in Coronado, but they wouldn’t know that, wouldn’t know what he’d been through.
In the end, he dashed out a quick reply before he could overthink it.
Thursday works. I’ve got a party for a friend on Friday night, but we can cross that bridge once you’re here. I’ll put the wine in to chill, and plan on cooking for you Thursday, but don’t worry if traffic is terrible—I’ll wait to start until you’re here. I’d tell you to not speed, but I heard all your friends teasing you about how you drive like the devil’s chasing you, so I figure it won’t do any good. Be safe?
See you soon,
Spencer
He attached a link to directions for his address. Of course, he spent the next twenty-four hours second-guessing the email, especially when there was no reply. But there was also no news from his agent, and with that story officially on the back burner, the conflict of interest alarm in his brain was down to a gentle beep and not the insistent shriek it had been on the mission.
Thursday he was close to emailing again, calling it off, claiming work or some such, but then he didn’t and suddenly it was almost five and the lobby was buzzing him to let him know he had a visitor. He hit the button to send him up, and then Del was there, at his door, whole and in one piece and exhausted-looking with tired eyes and a slow smile, and all he could do was open up—on so many levels—and hug the guy.
“Hey,” Del said several long moments later when Spencer released him to shut the door. He was in civilian clothes—first time Spencer had seen him casual—and he managed to make jeans and a T-shirt advertising a mud run sexy as fuck, the way both clung to his muscles. And surprisingly, it wasn’t hard at all to think of him as Del now, not Bacon. Here, alone like this, he was Spencer’s—even if only for a short time—and staking his claim to him with the name they’d both been using in email simply felt right. He stretched as he looked around Spencer’s condo. “Pretty swank place. Was worried that the door person was going to turn me away. Never been in an apartment building with a front desk before.”
“Front desk security is really common in this neighborhood.” Spencer tried to keep his tone from turning defensive. “This was my parents’ LA place for years. They loved the downtown location, and when they retired to Hawaii full-time, they insisted I take it over since it was so close to the paper.”
He tried to see the loft through Del’s eyes—the art deco styling, dark hardwood floors, high ceilings, large open living space that included a kitchen along the far wall with a long work island with bar stools in front of it. The cherry dining room furniture off to the side of the kitchen had been a find of his mother’s. After taking possession of the place, Spencer had put his own touches on it over the years—the large leather sectional was his, as was most of the art on the walls. And he knew he sounded very much like a privileged rich kid, something he tried to avoid, but he couldn’t deny being lucky to not have to worry about rent on a writer’s budget in LA.
“I’m pretty sure you could fit my barracks room in the elevator up to this place.” Del stroked his smooth jaw—his hair was shaggier than when Spencer had seen him last, but his face was smooth, and he smelled like the beachy aftershave he’d worn on their first meeting. Spencer wanted to bury his head in his neck, soak the scent in, but he restrained himself. Barely. “But I like it. My mom would kill for your view. Me, I’m thinking how ten flights of stairs is a lot to have to run down in an emergency, but I’m practical like that.”
“Knock on wood, I’ve never needed to do the stairs.” Spencer laughed. “Are you hungry? I haven’t started—”
“I can wait on food.” Intent clear in his eyes, he backed Spencer against the couch. Ah, there he was, Bacon the deadly operator, only this time Spencer was his target, and he was only too happy to be marked, so he didn’t make any move to escape. “I’ve been thinking about kissing for you for weeks now. Need to see if you taste like I remember.”
“Well, by all means.” Spencer looped his arms around Del’s neck, ready for the assault of his mouth. But to his surprise, the man was much more pliant than he’d been the last time they kissed. Still intense, purposeful in how he held Spencer and how he claimed his mouth, but way more willing to let Spencer explore. Which was nice, being able to prove that he was more than just a ready pair of lips—he wanted to impress him in the worst way, knock him for a loop, the way their first kiss had flattened him in a way he still hadn’t recovered from.
So he explored, learned that Del liked it aggressive, moaning when Spencer used his teeth and tongue. Sucking at Del’s full lower lip made him shudder and respond by deftly tumbling them both onto the couch, Spencer landing on top of him.
“Fuck,” he groaned against Spencer’s mouth, pulling him tightly against his torso. His chest seemed broader, if such a thing were even possible. He was warm and curiously cuddly, nuzzling into Spencer’s neck and seeming in no hurry to progress beyond this leisurely making out. So Spencer indulged him with long, drugging kisses until they were both breathing hard, bodies straining.
“What do you need?” he whispered in Del’s ear before kissing his jaw, still trying to read him, figure out this new facet of this fascinating man.
“You.” Del chuckled, cheeks staining pink. “Shower with decent water pressure. Only got a lukewarm rinse at the base before hitting the road. Feels like I haven’t been really clean in forever. I don’t want to be too scuzzy for you. Eventually, the dinner you promised. But right now...you.”
“You’ve got me. You want me and the shower both? I’ve got a dual-headed shower in the master and a tankless heater—all the hot water you want.”
“Oh yes, please.” His face tipped back, and Spencer would have given in to any request of his just to keep that dreamy look of pleasure on his features.
“You’re in a different mood today,” Spencer observed as he rolled off him and offered him a hand up.
“Is that the nice way of saying I’m not as aggro as I was at the hotel?” Del laughed as he followed him to the master, which was tucked away behind the dining area. “I’m not...that’s not always how I get after a mission.”
“Oh?” Spencer flipped on the lights in the bathroom, which really was a big space, and he was only too happy to be able to give Del the shower he craved. “Thought you were all about the brains-being-fucked-out thing.”
“Ha. Never said who was getting fucked.”
“Touché.” A frisson of excitement swept up Spencer’s spine. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy the hell out of this visit.
“I mean, I can do the aggressive thing if that’s what you need. But sometimes...it’s like my mom’s cooking. Or room service, you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “More like... I just want to lie back and soak everything in, nice and slow.”
“You mean, you like being taken care of?” Something tender broke loose inside Spencer’s chest, made his knees go as weak as his resistance to this man.
“Kinda. Does that sound too weird? I’m not even sure I’m making sense anymore. Barely slept—”
“Sssh.” Spencer put a finger against Del’s kiss-swollen mouth. “It sounds perfect. Let me take care of you, okay, Del?”
“Yeah.” He licked his lips, looking far younger than twenty-eight in that moment. “I like it when you call me that. More than I probably should.”
“Good.” Spencer started by pulling up the T-shirt, waiting for Del to raise his arms so he could help him out of it. Same as he had in the living room, Del went pliant in Spencer’s arms, let him tug off his clothes without too much fuss. Spencer set the shower on full blast before stripping off his own clothes.
“Tell me if it’s too hot.”
“After the month I’ve had?” Del let out a rueful laugh. “No such thing.”
The groan of pleasure Del released when under the dual stream went straight to Spencer’s cock. Wanting to do this right, he grabbed a washcloth and a bottle of luxury body wash that had been an unopened gift.
“Seriously. I may never leave this room. You can bring my dinner right here.” Del leaned against the wall, let the water cascade down his muscled chest. He had bruises on his ribs and a scrape on his right shoulder.
“Damn, Del, what did you do to yourself?” Getting the washcloth soapy, Spencer ran a gentle hand down his side.
“Slipped getting into position. It was nothing.” Del continued leaning back, letting the water pelt him as Spencer soaped him up. “You feel amazing. Love how that smells. I got so sick of the plain stuff at the forward base. Even at Coronado, I’m always forgetting to buy nice stuff, but I do like smell-good stuff.”
You deserve all the nice stuff. Spencer stopped the supremely sappy thought before it could spew forth. He resolved to slip the bottle of this basil-eucalyptus shower gel into Del’s backpack before he left. He was generous with the soap, avoiding the bruises but taking his time to knead Del’s tight muscles.
“Fuck. Forget food and sex. I just want more of this.” Del turned so the water pounded his back, resting his head against the tiles. The water was slightly warmer than Spencer typically had it, so he was happy to let Del get most of the spray from both showerheads while he got to work on the broad planes of his shoulders, rubbing out the knots, working up a good lather before the water rinsed it away. On a mission of sorts, he dropped to his knees.
“Spread your legs,” he encouraged.
“What? You don’t have to...” Del sounded drowsy as he complied, shifting his stance. God, he was so gorgeous, with a tight, high ass that Spencer took his time massaging and washing, soapy fingers teasing the crack, testing his responses.
“Oh man... Fuck. Like that.” Del groaned beautifully, spreading his legs further, pushing back against Spencer’s fingers.
He let the water rinse Del before lightly biting one muscled cheek. As he’d hoped, that got another groan. He licked and bit his way to his crack, then spread him open. Usually, Spencer was a bit...finicky about whom he did this for and when, but Del, clean and warm, moaning softly, ass not-so-subtly rocking toward Spencer, was a treat he couldn’t resist. And so he made a feast of his hole, licking and sucking with a voracity that surprised even himself.
“Jesus fuck, Spencer. Spencer.” Del was shaking above him, voice wobbling. Steam enveloped them, enhancing the sense of their own little universe here with the hot water cascading over them and Del coming apart for him. Reaching down, Del fisted his cock. “If I promise I can go again, can I... Fuck...this is too good.”
“Yeah, stroke yourself off.” This wasn’t simply foreplay for Spencer. It was part of taking care of him, part of making sure he felt good, giving him the space to be Del, the man, instead of Bacon, the always-on SEAL. Sure, he wanted to fuck him, but more than that, he wanted to give him a safe place to shatter, and someone to put him back together afterward.
“Oh, God. More.” Del’s voice was a low whine now as Spencer flicked his tongue all around the rim before using the tip of his tongue to work him soft and open, making love to him with his mouth, soul thrilling with each strangled cry that escaped Del’s throat. He’d made the guy climax twice before, but this was the first time that he felt in control, felt Del actively giving in to the pleasure Spencer wanted to give him. “Fuck me. Here. Don’t make me wait.”
“Oh, but you promised me you could go again. I want to feel you come. Come for me, Del.” Spencer resumed his onslaught before Del could protest further. Using his hands to hold him open, he worked his tongue over all the spots he’d already learned made Del gasp and moan and stroke himself faster until he came all over the shower wall with a shout of Spencer’s name.
Stifling a curse at the number the unforgiving tile floor had done on his knees, Spencer stood so he could embrace Del, hold him while he shuddered.
“Fuck. I love your water heater. And that...wow. Tell me you’re going to fuck me now. Please?”
“Oh, you are so getting fucked.” Spencer bit at the Gothic-looking tattoo on Del’s shoulder. “But we can stay in here as long as you need.”
“Mmm.” Del spun, capturing Spencer’s mouth in an eager kiss. “Much as I’m willing to sign a prenup and pick out china with this shower, I want you more. Take me to your bed, Spencer.”