Chapter Twenty

They were quiet. Graves didn’t sleep, occasionally opening his eyes to glance up at Nick who never stopped his strokes. He ran his hands over Graves’s tattoos, tracing them with his fingers. When Nick stroked his scalp, Graves could feel the rasp of hair. I need to shave. God, this feels good though.

Nick rubbed his open palm down Graves’s cheeks, feeling the stubble there. Graves turned his face side to side, enjoying Nick’s blunt fingers scratching in the scruff on his face. He needed to shave his face even more urgently than his head. Downright scruffy, old boy. Nick’s fingers trailed down Graves’s throat over the tattoos there. The touch sent goose bumps all the way down Graves’s arms, making him shiver as Nick reached his clavicles.

“You know how I knew your little charm campaign was working?” Nick asked softly. Graves kept his eyes closed but raised his brows.

“You wore a shirt, with no tie, and the top two buttons undone. This was when we went racing.”

“I remember.”

“It was like you were naked. I kept looking…here…” He dragged his fingers over the base of the big man’s throat. “And here.” He ran his thumb over the edge of his clavicle, pushing his shirt to expose part of the tattoo on his shoulder.

“Really?” Graves asked. The idea amused him. If I had known I would have played it up. Ah, missed chances.

“Yeah. See, I’d never looked at a guy before. But…well. That was the first time for me,” Nick said.

“Interesting. You know, the first time I saw you properly, beyond just a pretty face, that is, I threatened you in Jeanne’s kitchen. Remember?” Graves said.

Nick snorted and Graves caught him rolling his eyes.

“You didn’t back down,” he continued. “You came right after me. I admit. I was a bit starstruck.”

“Really? That wasn’t my finest moment, man,” Nick said.

“Perhaps. I’m not sure why, but it was eye-opening to me. You were handsome and you were funny, but I saw you had…no…you have a core of steel. It was obvious once I saw it. A good man. A decent man. Ferocious…bah…a weakness of mine, maybe.”

They grew quiet again. Nick’s hand was flat on Graves’s shoulder, the heel of his palm following his clavicle back and forth.

Without opening his eyes, Graves reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. He sighed and turned his face into Nick’s hip, scooting closer.

“You’re a cat,” Nick said.

“Shh, let me enjoy something uncomplicated for once.”

“Poor Lord Graves. Such a rough life.”

He snorted against Nick’s hip and then let out a long sigh when Nick ran his hand over his pectoral, dragging his fingers through his chest hair and over to the other side.

Nick’s hand cupped the back of Graves’s head, and it felt good, so good. Tender. It was getting hard to focus. Something is happening here. Something is different.

“Hey, Graves?” Nick said softly.

“Mmm?”

“What is this?”

“What?” Graves asked, muffled against Nick’s T-shirt.

“Right now. This…right now. I feel…different.”

“Shh, so do I. Don’t rush it.”

“Okay,” Nick said, settling back.

Graves kept his breathing steady but the boy was right. This was different. He felt like pieces of him were falling away, things he thought were important, ego—all falling off—icebergs calving into the ocean. In his mind he heard Mozart. He hummed a few bars, tapping out the notes. Something was changing in him. Worries sliding away. Unwilling to force it, he just watched, concentrating on Nick’s hand.

Slowly, so Nick’s hand simply followed the movement, Graves rolled toward him, pressing his face completely into the side of Nick’s belly. He fumbled Nick’s shirt up until he had what he wanted—bare, sweet-smelling skin against his face. He pushed harder, mouth open and eyes closed, groaning low at the feel of it. His hand slid around Nick’s side to splay in the middle of his back, holding him close against his face.

Nick’s hand slid around to the back of his neck and pulled as well, keeping Graves tight against him.

They didn’t break contact, shifting until Nick was on his back, Graves pushing his shirt up and pressing openmouthed kisses against Nick’s belly.

Nick’s hand was down the back of his shirt, so he shrugged out of it, undoing the last buttons and pushing it off without stopping the way his face rubbed back and forth over Nick’s navel.

“Goddamn,” Nick breathed. “Yes, Graves. Yes.”

“Mmph.” Graves felt sluggish, weightless, happy. It felt like being underwater.

Graves pushed Nick’s shirt up, shoved it all the way so he could kiss every flushing inch. His thoughts were small bubbles bursting in a sea of lust.

Finally. Christ, I’ve dreamed of this. His skin is even sweeter than I thought; he’s strong. He’s melting though. Sweet boy. Mine. Mine.

*

Nick felt heavy and loose-limbed in Graves’s arms. There was no pause before they kissed, just a scrape of unshaven cheeks and then Graves’s mouth on his, hot and rough. Nick made a desperate sound. Graves’s response was to kiss him harder, to tangle his wide fingers in Nick’s curls and tug, to grip the back of Nick’s neck and hold him while he lapped at Nick’s upper and lower lips. Nick’s mouth opened without any conscious thought, the tips of their tongues meeting, and he dragged on that plush lower lip. Graves was kissing the breath right out of him. Taking Nick’s mouth however he wanted. Goddamn, it felt good. Nick’s whole body sagged. This is what being taken care of is like. This is it.

“Yes,” he said again. “Graves, yes.”

“All right, darling. I’ve got you,” his voice was slurred with want, rough, approximating the deep bass Nick had only ever heard Graves use in anger. No anger now. Just a burning lust and…happiness? Graves sounded happy.

Suddenly, Nick was lifted, their lips still mashed together. He wrapped his legs around Graves’s waist and clung to his shoulders. Graves’s hand stayed on the back of his neck but the other cupped under his ass and Nick realized with a jolt that almost his whole backside fit in Graves’s hand.

Graves carried him through the doors to his suite without breaking the kiss, or stopping the deep rumbles in his chest that vibrated right down Nick’s spine.

Graves turned and sat on the bed before scooting back. Keeping Nick on top of him. Nick wasn’t sure when or how the pants came off, the prosthetics, their underwear, but soon enough he was naked and sprawled over Graves’s belly, legs spread and grinding against him helplessly. They couldn’t stop kissing long enough to do anything else, hands on each other’s faces and necks, kneading shoulders and rubbing their chests together.

It was desperate. Impossible. Nick slid his body a little, and they were grinding their cocks together.

“Oh, dear God,” Graves barked.

“I ain’t gonna last,” Nick warned, but Graves just rolled him over, hooking one of Nick’s knees in his elbow and bending him in half. He pressed down so while he ground his cock between Nick’s legs, Nick’s prick was slipping and sliding against his belly, both of them leaking and sweating and completely unable to try anything more sophisticated.

“Oh, Christ, me neither,” Graves gasped.

They came all over each other, curses muffled into each other’s mouths, hips stuttering, neither even trying to hold back.

They rolled to their sides, heaving chests still together, foreheads pressed, eyes finally open, gasping and smiling into each other’s mouth.

“I’d like to say,” Graves gasped. “That isn’t what I imagined our first time together would be like.” His eyes were the merest slits, his cheeks flushed.

“What— How did you imagine it?” Nick was still panting, still shuddering, leg hiked high over Graves’s hip.

“Well, I thought I would be much more… I don’t know…refined?” Graves said, lapping at the sweat on Nick’s throat. “Christ, you made me come like a sixteen-year-old. I thought I would get to take my time, pull you to pieces little by little. I didn’t think I’d be so…” He kissed Nick again, nipping at his lower lip. “So bloody desperate for you.”

Nick’s toes curled at this. The idea that Graves, who was vastly more experienced, had fallen apart, lost his cool? That’s an ego boost. Damn. It isn’t just me.

“Well, we have time now, and we got all that out of the way,” Nick said.

“Twenty-year-olds,” Graves muttered. Nick pushed him backward, rolling up so he could straddle Graves’s hips and look down at him.

He slid his fingers through the splashes of come on his belly and brought them to his mouth, holding Graves’s gaze. Graves’s whole body lurched under him.

“Oh, Nick…” he purred.

“There it is—there’s that shark smile I was expecting,” Nick said and did it again, scooping up their shared spend and licking it off his fingers. Salty, sweet, bitter. Me and him. Me and him together.

*

“I’m going to ruin you,” Graves said with a growl. “I hope you know that. I’m going to be so good for you, you’ll never be able to shake another man’s hand without thinking about me.”

“Promises, promises,” Nick said. He folded forward, graceful as always and ran his tongue over a smear of come on Graves’s belly. He planted his hands to either side and slipped lower, holding those amber eyes, still trailing his tongue over Graves’s skin until he had licked and sucked every drop.

Graves wasn’t all the way hard, but he was getting there, and as Nick looked down at his cock a fat bead of precome welled up from his slit. It trembled there, clear and reflecting the lamps.

“Jesus,” Nick whispered.

“Go on,” Graves said. “You’ve been wanting to look since that morning at Jeanne’s. So look.” He dragged over a pillow and put his hands behind his head so he was propped up enough to watch.

Nick’s face when he lifted his head almost undid Graves right there. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were glazed. His lower lip, red from kissing, hung slightly down, a little bead of saliva hanging from its bottom edge.

“Graves,” he said, his voice no more than a rasp. “I’ve never done this. Never done anything even like this…”

“Don’t think,” Graves said, wishing his voice was steadier. “Only do what feels good to you. Don’t worry about me.”

What “felt good” in this case was to lick up the drop of precome—the drop that was more of a string now. Nick curled a delicate tongue underneath its hanging edge and slurped it up. If Graves had not just had an orgasm—that would have done it.

He made a strangled grunt and snapped his hips, completely unintentionally, rubbing the head of his cock over Nick’s lips. Nick followed it back down, nuzzling against it, rubbing the thick shaft over his face, breathing deep with his face pressed into Graves’s groin.

“Smell’s good; always love the way you smell,” Nick muttered. Graves kept his jaw clamped shut, breathing hard through his nose.

“You’re right, I been looking. Looking at this thing. Wondering how big it was. You think you gonna fuck me with this?”

“Yes,” Graves said. “I am. You’re going to beg me for it.”

Nick looked up at him and Graves softened, looking down into the boy’s eyes, the blue the barest ring around his blown pupils.

“I want all of it,” Nick said. “I didn’t get to—with Roger I mean. I want to know what it’s like. But you gotta go slow, okay?”

Pushing aside the jet of anger at the thought of Roger fucking Yeung, Graves curled up and pulled Nick against his chest again. He kissed him slowly, hands cupping Nick’s cheeks.

“I’m going to be so good to you,” he said. “Turn over and I can show you. Let me spoil you a little.” He wasn’t proud of how much the idea of being Nick’s first pleased him. He was going to kill Roger Yeung for what he did, but without jealousy now. He hurt him, almost broke his spirit. I’m going to crush Energen to dust.

They rearranged themselves, Nick on his belly, with Graves draped over his back, nuzzling the back of his neck. The weight of him made Nick go completely limp. Touch starved was touch starved, he supposed. He had a lot to make up for.

Still kissing the back of Nick’s neck, Graves purred into Nick’s ear.

“That’s it, relax. I’m not going to fuck you tonight. This is just for you.”

The last sentence was a lie. Graves was very much doing this for himself as well. His fantasies about Nick didn’t start and end with taking his virginity—though many did.

He wanted to touch and taste every single part of him, devour him head to toe, peel him apart layer by layer until Nick begged him. He was willing to invest significant amounts of time into this process. Into making Nick his and only his.

“Ah these freckles…” he murmured, pressing his lips against Nick’s shoulders.

“What’s with you and freckles, anyway?” Nick asked. “People been telling me that since the first day.”

“Both my wives were blonde, freckles, surfer girls—a look I love. All sunshine and fresh air after cold, wet England. My brother teased me about it and it caught on. I don’t care. I love them. Now I’m going to kiss every single one of yours.”

“You do that,” Nick sighed. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna object.”

Graves did more than that. He massaged Nick’s back and shoulders, trailed his tongue in the dips and turns of his muscles.

“You’re the first swimmer I’ve had,” he said against the deep line of Nick’s spine. “What a body you have. Beautiful. So strong.”

By the time Graves got down to curling his tongue in the dimples on either side of Nick’s ass, Nick was not especially verbal anymore. He was whimpering curses and nonsense into the pillow, breathing hard.

Graves lifted his head a moment, admiring the constellation of kiss marks and red bites and little wet trails connecting them. Nick’s thighs, spread on either side of Graves’s waist, were covered in goose bumps.

“This,” Graves purred. “This. Do you know how many times I’ve beat myself thinking about this? I can hardly stand it.”

He dug his thumbs in, hard, and pulled Nick’s cheeks apart.

Nick let out a high-pitched moan, tried to choke it off, but couldn’t stop himself from arching his back, tilting his hips up.

“That’s it, show me,” Graves said. He didn’t say anything else, completely caught up in the perfect little pink curl in front of him. All he could do was stare, the heels of his hands digging in hard.

“Perfect,” he breathed. He slid his hips forward, sliding his shaft over that pink mouth. Just to see.

I’d tear you in half, Graves thought to himself. He bucked his hips a little, smearing a little precome on Nick’s opening. Graves didn’t think much about his cock one way or another. It was big. But he was big. So it wasn’t something he bragged about. He was lucky to still have it—the blast that took his legs could have been a few inches higher, and he’d have lost it all. But in moments like this, seeing it as big around as a bottle nestled in Nick’s pale little ass made the inner sadist in him purr to life.

Instead, he propelled himself over to the side of the bed on his hands to retrieve the oil out of the bedside table. Then, he positioned himself back between Nick’s thighs, sitting up.

“Lift your hips, baby,” he said. “Get up on your knees.”

Nick did, keeping his shoulders flat on the pillow. It had the effect of dropping his back into a deep, perfect arch. Graves had to close his eyes a moment. Finally, I can take my time and enjoy this. Keep him here a week if I want to. Then, after New Year’s…

Graves leaned down and placed a single gentle kiss, right on Nick’s opening. He relaxed his hands, holding those perfect cheeks more loosely, stroking his thumbs along the edges of nick’s cleft, making more goose bumps trail up and down Nick’s legs.

The boy was right. They had gotten the initial rush out of the way. Graves’s head was clear to take his time, to make Nick squirm. He kissed and licked and nipped at Nick’s rim until it could barely stay closed, swollen and dark pink.

Graves prided himself in his skill. He liked making his lovers feel good—men or women. And he knew exactly how far he wanted to push his Nick. He watched Nick’s fists opening and closing in the sheets, listened to his increasingly vocal moans. He didn’t let Nick come until he had two thick fingers in all the way alongside his tongue. He had been stroking Nick’s prostate, the slightest pressure, teasing, teasing.

“Please, please, please, please…” Nick was chanting it, snapping his hips back into Graves’s hand.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Graves said, curling his fingers and giving Nick’s prostate one last stroke. Nick came untouched, his slender pink cock spraying out onto the bed without any friction at all.

Nick collapsed forward, body shuddering, and Graves slid his fingers free. He had used enough oil that he probably wouldn’t have to re-lube the boy for days. Which was good. Because Nick’s body had been so responsive—Graves didn’t care if the ship sank—he was claiming that ass before the week was out.

But now…

Balanced on one prosthetic and a crutch, he went to wash his hands and splash some cold water on his face. He came back to see Nick asleep, legs still spread, face slowly losing its flush. Graves stopped by the bed, looking down at his lover’s face.

“I don’t know what you are doing to me,” he said softly. “But I’m going to handle this business with Hong Kong, and then we are going home to Scimitar, you and I. All the rest be damned.”