“Yo, Bacon, you ready to fly?” Rooster bounced on the balls of his feet. He liked jumps more than just about anyone on the team, and Bacon figured he’d make a damn good jumpmaster in a few years.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Still in hot pursuit of the terrorist cell in the South Pacific, they were practicing an insertion over water with a SEAL boat known as a RIB also being deployed with parachutes. The RIB would go first, four parachutes controlling its descent, then four SWCC would follow—the specialized SEAL boat crew would handle setting up the boat so that when the rest of the team jumped in a carefully choreographed sequence, the boat would be ready for them. They would then swim to the RIB and carry out the rest of the practice mission.
Water insertions always made Bacon nervous—he was a strong swimmer, but the potential to get bogged down in the parachute was always a risk with these maneuvers. The roar of the C-130J engines as the plane took off made further talk with Rooster hard. But that was okay. These past few weeks, Bacon hadn’t been the best at small talk with his teammates. In a lot of ways, it felt like he was living from one LA visit to the next and one email or chat session to the next. And he couldn’t tell anyone what he was up to, which felt weird, having this awesome thing in his life and no one to share it with.
Soon, he was going to talk to Spencer about when they could be a little less covert. It had been two months since his first LA visit, and they had a good routine going of emails, texts, and video chats filling the gap between in-person hookups. A steady stream of good stuff that now in the long, antsy wait to jump, he could let himself flash back to.
I know you’re in love with my mattress, but I have to tell you I don’t think it’s doing its job anymore. It seems too big now when you’re not here, and I tossed and turned last night, so hard to fall asleep after having had you all weekend. Guess my body is used to you wearing me out before sleep or something. Which is all a convoluted way of asking, what days are you off this week? I want to make pozole, and I know how much you like Mexican food.
Take care,
Spencer
Bacon liked that Spencer was slowly becoming more open about missing him, and he loved that Spencer kept dreaming up things to cook for him. It wasn’t just Spencer’s mattress and shower that Bacon had an increasing fondness for, and he liked knowing he wasn’t the only one counting the days.
Are you making tortillas from scratch again? If so, I suppose I could come up on Wednesday—got 36 hours off Wednesday and Thursday. And if it makes you feel better, my bed at the barracks feels ridiculously tiny these days, and my pillow is a piss-poor substitute for you.
See you soon,
Del
Traffic had been bad that week, getting him there late in the evening, and they’d ended up eating bowls of pozole in Spencer’s bed with a news show they both liked in the background. They hadn’t even fucked until morning, something Bacon was oddly proud of. They were crossing a line where it wasn’t just sex or friends-with-benefits, and it filled something that had been missing a long ass time in his life. Sure he had friends, but no one he could be himself around the way he could with Spencer. No one who relaxed him like Spencer. No one who cared for him like Spencer.
He still had to be careful about what he said about his duties, but they’d found a place where Bacon could talk about stuff without revealing too much. And Spencer was the one person he was okay with admitting when things were hard.
Shit day. Screwed up on a swim. I’m okay, but man, I can’t wait till I see you tomorrow.
Del
Sorry to hear about the rough day. What can I do? I’ve got a hot shower with your name on it, and some really nice organic chicken I’m roasting with lemons and rosemary. Do you need to talk tonight though? We can video chat whenever.
Spencer
Just having Spencer around made the bad days that much easier to take. It wasn’t Spencer’s chicken that had warmed Bacon through, reminding him how good it was to be Del, the guy Spencer cared for. Spencer was the space where he could let everything go, just be. And after this practice mission, he’d have another few precious hours in LA before he was on red-alert for deployment for the real deal.
“Drop zone approaching,” someone called, and it was time to triple-check his equipment and get in position as the rear hatch on the plane opened, air whooshing in.
“Five seconds.” The boat was first to go, sliding down the ramp in a carefully timed maneuver to launch the heavy cargo. He was able to see its four chutes deploy on schedule, then the SWCC crew was away. And then it was his team—the group that would carry out the mission they were prepping for, headed up by the XO again. Team Bravo would be providing additional support from a Mark V, but it was up to them to get into a tight spot undetected.
There was no room for error, so he stuck to protocol, racing out the hatch with zero hesitation. The chilly wind rose up to meet him, whipping through his clothes as he waited for the right moment to deploy his chute.
“Boat is in position.” His headset crackled to life as he approached the water.
Fuck. This was the part he hated. He’d have to find a way to tell Spencer about it later. And funny enough, thinking about seeing Spencer settled him, turned his grimace into more of a smile right as—
Splash. He was down and back into autopilot mode, freeing himself from his chute, getting to the boat, checking equipment on the boat, most notably guns and ammo, because on the real mission they were going in hot. He’d spent countless hours leading up to this on the range, working on keeping his sniper skills sharp.
The boat sped to one of their practice islands. The XO was timing everything down to the millisecond so that they could pull off the mission without a hitch. And he wasn’t happy with their approach, so they ended up practicing three times before he seemed satisfied with their timing getting to shore and in position.
Finally, after a long day in the sun, the extraction helicopter arrived. On the actual mission, they were slated to leave by water, but for training they got a faster lift back to mainland. Of course, the LT and XO needed to debrief the training mission afterward on base with the full team, so he had to sit through that before he was finally free.
Tonight still good? he texted as soon as it was safe to use his phone after the meeting, walking fast back to the barracks. Gonna be late when I get there. Sorry.
His phone vibrated almost immediately with a reply, and he stopped on the path to read it. Never too late. I’m up writing. We can sleep in together tomorrow for your day off. Spencer had added a funny little snoozing emoticon, and Bacon couldn’t help smiling.
“Dude. You seriously gotta tell me about this person who’s got you married to your phone lately.” Curly, who was back on duty and whom he should have noticed coming up behind him, clapped him on the back.
“It’s nothing.” Bacon tried his best to pack his smiles and secrets away, show only a blank expression.
“Yeah? It’s beer o’clock. You wanna get one together?”
“I’ve kind of got plans...”
“See. I knew that’s what you were going to say. Something’s going on with you.”
“It’s—”
“Nothing. So you’ve said. But I’m not buying.”
Bacon sighed because he’d been afraid of this. Keeping secrets from his best friend sucked. “It’s complicated.”
“Listen. I’m not an idiot. I think I know what’s going on, and I honestly I saw this coming, a mile away.”
“I’m not sure what you suspect.” Bacon’s heart started hammering like roofers trying to beat a rainstorm.
Curly lowered his voice and leaned in. “You’re seeing that reporter. Socially. Like bang—”
“You cannot go sharing that theory with anyone.” Bacon neither confirmed nor denied Curly’s accusation. “I know you have a nose for gossip—”
“Dude. Chill. I’m not gossiping about you. With anyone. I’m just saying that as your friend I’m happy for you.”
“Wait. You’re what?” Bacon had to blink hard.
“Hey, he’s not embedded anymore, right? And his story got killed. It’s not like he’s posing some risk to us anymore. If he was, that would be a different story, but right now, it’s your business if you want to stay friendly with him. I just want you happy.”
“I am.” It was the truth. Other than the whole secrecy thing, he wasn’t sure when he’d been this happy, this content. “But, seriously, I’m keeping this on the down low right now. At least through this next mission. I’m working toward getting him to be more okay with going public.”
“So it’s more than just banging?” Curly’s head tilted.
“Yeah,” Bacon admitted. “I think it is.”
“Well, I think you deserve something real in your life, something like what I have with Rachel, so I mean it when I say I’m happy for you. Other guys may give you a hard time, but I’ve got your back. I know I let you down in the past, and I’m sorry, man. And I’m not going to tell about this.”
“Thanks.” Bacon’s throat was thick. “Appreciate that.”
“You can trust me.” Curly’s eyes were more than a little sad.
“I...” In his hand, his phone vibrated, and he shuffled his feet, eager to see if it was Spencer, eager to get out of this heavy conversation.
Curly laughed, sad eyes replaced by knowing teasing. “Go ahead and check your phone. Since someone won’t get a beer with me, I’m going to get changed and head over to Rachel’s.”
Bacon waved him on, then looked down at the new message.
Just a thought, but why don’t I save you half the drive? Meet in the middle? I can get us a room, then we can hang out and gorge on room service and bad TV tomorrow before you have to head back.
Bacon laughed and typed a fast response. Someone’s eager. I don’t mind the drive, but I like your plan. San Clemente maybe? Text me details.
Left to his own devices, he’d get the cheapest economy motel, but he knew Spencer would have Opinions with a capital O, and he kinda liked that, liked knowing that Spencer would find a nice spot, like how he slipped Bacon good shower products and made his food fancier. It made him feel taken care of, and that made him smile and jog the rest of the way back to the barracks. He probably needed to tell Spencer that Curly knew about them, but right then, all he could think about was how eager he was to see his guy.
* * *
Spencer found the way that Del sprawled in his sleep oddly endearing. He usually ended up in the center of the bed, pinning Spencer to his side in a way that should make him feel trapped, but in reality made him feel wanted. Needed. Necessary. No surprise, he’d awoken before Del, the light from the balcony doors of the hotel making it hard to keep sleeping. The room was done in white and teal, and the sun filtering in made the beach chic seem extra inviting. But he’d been loath to leave the king-size bed, leave the cozy cocoon of blankets and Del’s long limbs. He already knew from previous visits that Del could sleep through just about any noise level, so he’d grabbed his laptop, made sure the sound was off, and returned to the story he’d been working on about teens starting businesses.
He tried not to overanalyze how eager he’d been to see Del. It was more about fairness—Del was always the one making the long drive. The least Spencer could do was meet him halfway occasionally, right?
Last night, they’d both been bushed and ended up with a sleepy, half-dressed late-night dinner in bed and more cuddling rather than any serious fooling around before both succumbing to sleep. And Spencer had to admit, he slept better than he had in a week, and he was a guy who’d never had trouble sleeping before. He’d slept on more cross-country flights than he could count and all manner of weird places chasing a story.
He was just contemplating how to get more sleep time with Del when his screen flashed with a message notification of a new email. Ordinarily, he’d keep typing, but it was from his agent, so he clicked it open. And just like that, the bottom dropped out of his stomach.
Can you send me your phone availability today? I know it’s still early on the west coast. Sent your proposal around to gauge interest. Surprisingly, I’ve got an offer from...
Fuck. Despite his enthusiasm for the project, he’d assumed his agent’s lack of enthusiastic response meant she just didn’t see the market for it. And he’d been decidedly ambivalent about that—he had a soul-deep need to see this through, write this book. He’d had the dedication written to Harry for a year now. However, a small part of him had been...well not relieved, but...content. Okay with things dragging out on the book front. It meant not having to make hard choices yet. The past few months had been...well, idyllic was such a fanciful term, but it fit. Each email and visit from Del made something in his soul sing, gave him a sense of purpose he hadn’t had in years. He should be damn ecstatic at a potential book sale, but instead all he could manage was a crushing sense of dread.
And no two ways about it, if he did this project, everything with Del would change. He needed to—
“What’s got you so serious?” A sleepy Del nudged his side, looking utterly adorable with messed-up hair and squinty eyes.
“Nothing.” He slammed the laptop shut. “Just work.”
“You work too hard.” Del slid a hand under the covers, stroking up Spencer’s bare thigh. “And I fell asleep on you last night...”
“It’s okay. Do you want me to make coffee?” They did not need sex. They needed to talk.
“Nope. Nothing from that coffeemaker is going to be as good as your machine. We can go out. After.” Del gave him an easy smile before diving under the covers.
“Fuck.” All Spencer’s resolve was gone on a single gasp as Del licked up his thigh. He needed to be strong, put a stop to—
“You’re thinking too hard.” Del tossed the covers off. “And it’s been over a week. I’m desperate here. I mean, maybe it hasn’t been that long for you...” Something vulnerable in his eyes made Spencer’s breath catch. They hadn’t ever formally said they were exclusive, but as much as Spencer kept telling himself this was just sex, the way his heart stuttered for this man said otherwise.
“It’s been that long for me. Haven’t seen anyone else since about two months before I was embedded. Just distracted today. Sorry.”
It was worth Spencer’s conflicted soul to see Del’s answering smile. He cared, something he didn’t even try that hard to cover, which Spencer found refreshing. But instead of settling into a state-of-the-relationship talk, he nipped at Spencer’s thighs before licking his balls.
“Well, pay attention to this because I saw this hot-as-fuck porn gif I wanna recreate.”
“Oh?” Despite everything, he was curious. And that curiosity was going to be his undoing, because no way could he say no to Del, not when he trotted out that sort of playful determination.
“Yeah.” Del easily swung his long body around. “It was in sixty-nine position, but the guy on top was getting fingered, not blown.”
“Is that a hint?” Spencer had to laugh because Del had already won, even before he tossed Spencer a bottle of lube that he seemingly conjured up out of thin air.
“You know it. It’ll be fabulous,” he said right before swallowing Spencer deep. And he wasn’t wrong. It was a bit tricky, coordinating his hands while Del was doing his level best to drive Spencer out of his head, but it was worth it, the way Del was moaning around his cock and shamelessly wiggling back onto Spencer’s fingers.
“You love this, don’t you? Ass getting fingered, mouth full of cock?” Spencer knew full well what dirty talk did to Del, and he was rewarded with a low moan.
“Fuck, yes.” Del started a deep rhythm, sucking hard on the upstroke and working his tongue in such a way that he seemed everywhere at once. His balls were dangling right in front of Spencer’s mouth, so he responded by licking at them, which made Del whimper and rock back harder onto Spencer’s fingers. His cock dragged against the top of Spencer’s chest, and Spencer wouldn’t be too surprised if he came untouched—he’d come close to coming just from prostate play a few times, which was hot as hell to watch, waiting until the last second to give him his hand or mouth to send him over the edge.
He really wanted to get Del off first, focus on his pleasure, but Del’s eager mouth was making that darn near impossible, the way he was going for it, doing everything Spencer loved. His muscles tensed, pleasure coiling low in his gut. His head fell back, unable to keep up licking when it was this good.
“You’re going to get me off. Is that what you want? Want my come?”
“Mmm,” Del whined around Spencer’s cock and sucked hard. The needy sound went straight to Spencer’s balls, and his restraint slipped. He thrust up into Del’s mouth, things getting fast and sloppy as he catapulted into orgasm. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this man, but holy hell did he know how to make Spencer fly. Letting himself collapse for a few moments, he enjoyed Del’s knowing laugh and the way Del kept licking at his sensitive nerve endings.
“Your turn.” He rolled so that Del fell back onto the bed, and then scrambled to get his mouth on his cock, and his fingers back working his prostate.
“Oh fuck. Almost came from sucking you. So close.” He rocked his hips in time with the slide of Spencer’s mouth. Spencer might not have the sheer enthusiasm Del demonstrated for oral, but he tried to make up for it with finesse, unleashing all the knowledge he’d stored up about what got Del off. He fingered him with one hand, using his free hand to play with his balls while he sucked hard on his cockhead. And it wasn’t long before Del was panting and shuddering, coming apart for Spencer in a way that never failed to take his breath away.
“Now that’s a wake up.” Del grinned at him, a sleepy satisfied smile. “Breakfast of champions.”
“You’re trouble,” Spencer said and meant it. He was trouble all right, trouble for Spencer’s mind and his heart. And maybe he was a big chicken but he let his agent’s email slip to the back burner. He’d talk to her, find out what was up, think on things, see if anything was salvageable so that he could have both Del and the project, because he knew in that moment that he was going to do whatever he could to keep this man in his life.