Bacon let Spencer take care of him because it was easier than fighting it, and because he’d been craving it, had driven toward it, and denying himself now felt pointless, not when Spencer seemed so understanding. So he slept in Spencer’s arms, let Spencer soothe him when he awoke to the dream about the mission. The LT had already warned him he’d be seeing the psych who often worked with their team. And Bacon knew what the psych would tell him—all the same things the LT had, that he’d done his job, that he wasn’t a bad person, that he shouldn’t feel guilty. And most of the time, he didn’t.
Except.
But.
His breathing hitched. Spencer had fallen back to sleep and he didn’t want to wake him again, so he forced his breaths to slow, willed his lungs to cooperate and calm down. This would pass. He’d been a green recruit once, had freaked like this after his first couple of times out. But then he’d settled into a routine, figured out how to make his peace with what he did in the field. Which usually worked.
Except.
But.
Even after they’d told him the target—the terrorist mastermind—was young, he’d been unprepared for how deeply that would affect him afterward. They’d recovered plans for a biological warfare agent from the target’s compound, so he knew he’d done the right thing, unquestionably.
Except.
But.
That young face. Bacon was carrying that one to his grave. And eventually it would get easier. He knew that. He’d do his time with the psych, and this here, with Spencer, helped a great deal, having a place where he could come fall apart, as hard as it was to admit he needed that.
“You’re awake again,” Spencer mumbled, pulling Bacon close. “Are you hungry? I could heat up some soup and tea, see if that helps. When did you eat last?”
“Not sure. My sense of time is all fucked up. On the flight back. A snack. I think.”
“You’re eating.” Spencer flipped on the bedside light, casting the room in its pale, warm glow. “You’ll sleep better with some food in you.”
“You sound like my mom.” Bacon laughed, a weak, rusty sound. Spencer slipped on his black terrycloth robe, then fussed over him when he tried to follow him out of bed.
“Here. It’s chilly.” He draped a fuzzy blanket around Bacon’s shoulders. “Wrap up in this.”
Spencer heated the soup on the stove while he toasted some bread in the toaster oven and put the kettle on for tea. His quiet efficiency went a long way to soothing Bacon, who settled himself at the breakfast bar on a stool. Spencer set a mug of something herbal and minty in front of him, along with a bowl of creamy orange soup.
“Squash?”
“Butternut, yes. It’s got a little curry powder in it, but it’s not too spicy.” He slid Bacon a piece of crusty bread, which he used to dip in the steaming soup.
“Not bad. Bread’s good too.” Simply being here like this, talking, food, helped. He ate awhile in silence, just absorbing the good energy of this place and this man. “Maybe I can cook for you for a change tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to go right back?” Spencer looked up from his tea.
“Nah. I’ve got an appointment with the psych on Friday, but we’re all taking some leave to regroup before we ramp up again.”
“That’s good—both the leave and the psych. I’m glad they have someone to help you.”
“You help too,” Bacon admitted. “Probably more than whatever affirmations or breathing exercises she’s going to prescribe.”
“I’m glad.” Spencer squeezed his hand. “Del...” He trailed off and chewed his lip in a very un-Spencer-like fashion.
“Yeah?”
“You ever think about leaving the teams? Going private security, like your friends? You might have less...conflict then. Easier missions.”
“Fuck no.” Bacon shook his head, not liking where this was headed. “Just because I had one bad mission doesn’t mean I’m ready to not re-up or something. I’m a lifer. Always planned on doing my twenty, at least, then taking my retirement and doing something outdoors like whitewater guide. Being a rich person’s security detail is not my idea of fun at all. And I’m way too young to think about hanging it up yet.”
“I figured.” Spencer’s smile was more than a little sad. “Sorry if I was out of line.”
“You weren’t,” Bacon said gruffly. “I know it’s not easy, being with someone on the teams. I wish I could make it easier on you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Really.” Spencer patted him again.
“And actually, before I fell apart on you, I was going to tell you my other news. Relates to me being a lifer. I made chief. No way am I getting out anytime soon. I’ve waited a long damn time for this.”
“That’s wonderful.” Spencer’s wide smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Undaunted, Bacon pressed on. “They make kind of a big deal of the change in rank with a ceremony. It’s in two weeks. I was wondering if you’d come down—”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Bacon had been expecting that reaction and still groaned. “I get you not wanting to be around the team as a couple yet.”
“A couple? I thought you weren’t out as pan to your team?” Spencer’s eyes looked ready to pop out and roll across his hardwood floors.
Bacon had thought and thought about this while on the mission. “It’s well past time. Like I said, I haven’t had much reason to before. But I’ve got you now, and I don’t want to hide away forever. You could come, and maybe we ease people into us being a thing by mentioning that we’ve kept friendly. Then you can go out to dinner with my mom and me after the ceremony. I really want you to meet her.”
“You want me to meet your mom?” Spencer blinked. His continued disbelief was starting to grate. “Like as your boyfriend?”
“No. As my personal trainer. What do you think, Spencer? We’ve spent all my leave together for months now, neither of us is sleeping around with anyone else, and we care about each other. I think any outside observer would call us boyfriends at this point, right, Mr. Investigative Reporter?” Yeah, he was getting a little heated, and he pushed his soup away so that he could stand and pace.
“Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow. You’ve had an exhausting few days, it sounds like. I don’t want to fight right now.” Spencer pitched his voice to be soothing, but Bacon wasn’t having it.
“Me either. This isn’t that hard, Spencer. You’re not embedded anymore. We’re in a relationship. I don’t see what would be the big deal about telling a few more people. Some of your friends know, like Flor.”
“Yes, but Flor knows you as Del—”
“The hot young thing you’re fucking. I know. But guess what, I’m also Bacon, the SEAL. And that’s not going to change. And this promotion in rank is a big deal to me. And for what it’s worth, Curly already guessed I was seeing you before we deployed, and he couldn’t give a shit and didn’t tell anyone else—just wants me happy, he says.”
“Curly knows?” Spencer visibly swallowed.
“He guessed because I kept blowing him off for things because I was busy and wouldn’t tell him why and apparently I kept staring at my phone all goofy.”
That got a crooked smile from Spencer. “I never wanted to come between you and your friends.”
“You’re not. Or at least you don’t have to. I can see a future where I’ve got both my friends and you. And I guess the real question is why can’t you?”
“I sold a book. Another nonfiction book. About the military.” Now it was Spencer who paced away. “I found out right before you deployed. I’ve been waiting to tell you.”
“But I thought the PR folks killed your story.”
“That one, yes. This would be a book I’d write largely without the navy’s help.”
“Oh.” Bacon’s mouth open and shut as he tried to digest this news. “But why would that mean we can’t be a couple?”
“Appearances and—”
“Fuck appearances.” Bacon stalked over to Spencer, backed him against the table. “Write your book. But be a couple with me too. This isn’t some no-win scenario, Spencer.”
Spencer’s eyes were tired and sad, and he stroked Bacon’s face. “I wish it was that easy.”
“It can be.” Bacon lowered his head, claiming Spencer’s mouth. He resisted for a moment, but then softened, kissing Bacon back with tenderness, not anger.
“I care about you.” He stroked Bacon’s jaw again, making the bristly hair there tingle.
“Then let’s find a way to make this work.”
“I’m not sure it’s that easy.” Spencer’s tone was mournful, and Bacon hated that, so he kissed him again.
“What was that you said? Talk more in the morning? It’s late and we’re both wrung out and I just want to kiss and hold you some more.”
“That’s a bad idea and—”
Bacon cut him off with a kiss. “Trust me. I know all about bad ideas, and this isn’t one of them. Come to bed.”
It took a moment but Spencer nodded and wrapped his arms around Del’s neck. “Okay.”
Del hoped that a night in Spencer’s bed would have its usual magical restorative properties on both of them because he wasn’t giving up Spencer without a fight. He needed him, needed this too damn much to let go now.
* * *
Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would talk more. Tomorrow this would probably be over. So tonight, Spencer would give Del what he wanted, cling to him one more time. It was stupid and selfish, but he followed Del to the bedroom anyway. Del had shot down the compromise Spencer had spent weeks pinning all his hopes on, and now all those hopes were crumbling. He could see everything he’d yearned for fading away.
His phone was full of messages back and forth with Caroline, Harry’s widow, and all the interviews she’d lined up for him were starting to fall into place. The more he dug into the research, the more he felt compelled to write this book. So many men and women were in similar situations to Harry, and Spencer was in a position to help. Could he really live with himself if he walked away from that obligation?
He simply wasn’t sure, but he entered the bedroom with his heart all tangled up with his feet—poor battered organ unable to turn Del down even knowing what was likely to come.
Del tossed the blanket he’d wrapped himself in to the bottom of the bed before reaching for the tie on Spencer’s robe, and Spencer let him, let him push the robe off. He took a moment to drink in Del’s naked form, trying to memorize him. As usual post-mission, he was a mess of minor bruises and scrapes, a testament to how damn hard he worked. Leaning in, Spencer kissed his stubbly jaw, then the bruise on his left shoulder. The scrape on his wrist. The bruising around his ribs.
“Landed weird.” Del’s voice was thick and a little unsteady. “It looks worse than it is.”
Spencer sank to his knees, probably not as gracefully as Del usually did, but he continued his quest, kissing a particularly mottled bruise on his hip then the scrapes on his calves. Finally, he made his way to Del’s thick cock, which hung heavy and half-hard. He mouthed along the length, encouraging him to fully erect. But when he would have taken him deep, Del hauled him to his feet and manhandled him onto the bed.
“It’s been weeks. I’m going to come in twenty seconds if you keep that up.”
“I’m good with that. And it’s been weeks for me too.” Spencer meant it to come out teasing, but his voice was still soft and sad from their earlier conversation. “What do you want? I want to make you feel good.”
If this was it, the last time, he wanted to make it memorable, wanted to tell Del everything with his touch that he couldn’t with his words.
“Just want to kiss you.” Del stretched out next to him before pulling him in for a deep, searching kiss. Spencer met him way more eagerly than he had earlier, resolved to memorize Del’s taste and feel. He wanted to remember more than simply how full his lips were, how soft his sighs, how hard his body was stretched out next to Spencer. He wanted to remember how Del made him feel when they kissed. Treasured. Cherished. Desired. Maybe even loved.
Usually Del’s eyes fluttered shut when they made out, but tonight, he kept opening them, eyes searching Spencer’s between kisses, as if Spencer was the key to his happiness. If only.
Eventually, Del rolled so they were both on their sides, legs tangling, cocks brushing against each other. This was usually the point when one of them would start scrambling for the lube or kissing their way south, but neither of them seemed in any hurry this time.
“Spence...” Del stroked his neck and arm before hitching Spencer’s top leg over his hip. “Missed you so much.”
“Missed you too.” Spencer met his mouth for another greedy kiss, this one making his toes curl, the way Del licked at his tongue and nipped at his lower lip. Gradually, his thrusts against Spencer picked up steam.
“Fuck. Need to come, but I don’t want this to end.” Del’s voice was pained.
“Me too. Never want it to end.” He meant more than the sex, and it came out in his low, urgent tone.
“I...” Del’s eyes closed, and his head tipped back, almost like he was seeking benediction.
I love you. The thought barreled into Spencer, stole his next breath, and almost came rushing out his throat. He swallowed hard, burying his face in Del’s neck so he couldn’t see it in his eyes, but he knew it was there. I love you. He couldn’t say it aloud, shouldn’t even be thinking it, but he felt it in every touch, every kiss, every breath. It wouldn’t be fair to share it, not now, but lord, how he felt it.
Del worked a hand between them, started stroking them off together. Spencer shuddered, from emotion as much as pleasure. He put his hand on Del’s, needing that last point of connection.
“Gonna...”
“Me too...” Spencer used his leg to hold him closer. Their mouths met in a desperate kiss, one that seemed to hold everything uncertain between them, all the feelings and possibilities and hopes and fears.
Del came first, hips bucking, and the slippery fluid coating their fists pushed Spencer over the edge too as he thrust into Del’s tight grip. The orgasm wrung him out, made his eyes sting and heart ache. It was release, but it wasn’t their usual jubilant laughter after either.
“I... Spencer...” It was there in Del’s eyes too, everything Spencer had been trying to hide in his own gaze, and Spencer couldn’t let him speak the words. Might never recover if he did. So he kissed him, drowned in the sleepy slides of their lips, lost himself to this man.
Eventually, Del slumped back against the pillows and Spencer made a halfhearted attempt at cleanup before stretching out to watch Del sleep. He resisted the impulse to trace the contours of his cheek or trail his fingers down Del’s slightly crooked nose. He’d finally gotten Del to share the story of how he’d broken it in a fight protecting Jamie, and now whenever Spencer noticed it, his stomach clenched with sympathy for how brave and bold Del had been back then. Still was, really. And now Spencer was about to disappoint his brave, bold warrior.
Tomorrow was going to suck. Del was going to try to argue that there was a way for them to have a future. And as much as Spencer wanted to believe him, he was a realist. And as much as he hated it, had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning, he knew exactly what he was going to have to do.
He was going to have to show Del what he was working on. And then he was going to have to watch him break Spencer’s heart, because there was no possible way this ended well. What did Del call it? No-win. No one was winning here.
So, yeah, he didn’t sleep, instead using the precious moments to soak in Del’s smell and warmth and to hold close the moment when their eyes had met and everything, everything had been between them. He was going to wrap himself in that moment, keep it safe even when everything fell apart.