Chapter Twenty-One

“Hey big guy,” Nick asked, dropping down beside Graves on the upper deck. “I have a question. Why are you such a dick, anyway?”

“I beg your pardon?” Graves looked up from his book, blinking in surprise. Nick handed him a glass of water. They had been rolling around in bed all morning, and now it was after lunch, and they were sitting out in the sun, drinking cold beers and reading.

“You heard me. Why are you such a dick?”

“Your language is charming,” Graves snorted and set the water on the side table.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the Louisiana on my mother’s side. I’m asking a serious question! All this ‘have to keep my hand on the tiller, old boy; can’t take my eyes off the road, wot, wot, old chum’ bullshit? What’s that even about?”

“I don’t say wot, wot!” Graves gave Nick a little push.

Nick didn’t expect a real answer. But this time Graves looked serious. He rubbed the back of his neck, tapping his fingers on the cover of his book before answering.

“There was a woman,” he said. “A doctor. I was… Christ, Nick, I was obsessed with her.” Graves set his book down and stared at his hands. Nick sat up.

“Oh my God, this is the truth!” he said. Graves gave him a wry look. The tattoos on his cheeks made his mouth even more expressive.

“I wanted to marry her,” he continued. “Chased her all over the world, lied to her about what I did and who I was. When I finally told her the truth…she left.” He paused a moment. “And she was right to. Once my ego had recovered, I came back,” he said, his voice cold and angry. “I found that, while I had been completely drunk on her—my organization had fallen to bits. Filled with thieves and rats who hurt my people, stole from them, exploited them.” Graves’s voice slipped into its lower, angrier register. “The people who grow my dope back home, my people, thought I had died. Died and left them to the wolves.”

“Do you have a picture of her?” Nick asked, insanely curious and—is that jealousy? No. No definitely not.

“Of course, I do.”

Graves pulled out his phone and brought up an image, handing it to Nick. Who whistled. A stunning, full-figured, golden-skinned woman with a cap of black curls and full, beautiful lips. She was wearing a bikini top and a sarong slung low over wide hips. She had dark eyes, intelligence and good humor crackling through the photograph. She held a book loose in one hand and was leaning slightly forward, caught in an unguarded moment.

“Goddamn… Is she Puerto Rican?”

“Cuban, a mix of things, like me.”

“No, no,” Nick said, still staring at the photo. “You ain’t gotta make excuses for this. She is gorgeous. Wow. Pfft. Give up Red Sky? I’d give up a limb.”

“Perhaps,” Graves said, and his eyes crinkled to slits. “But I’m rather low on limbs.”

Nick snorted. Graves did. The laugh fed into itself like a storm system until they were howling, Graves clutching his bad hip. Nick recognized it of course. The small part of him that was always watching, watching, watching—noted that Graves’s laugh was a mix of relief and an outrush of carefully dammed emotion.

They pulled themselves together as men do—by fighting—Graves perfectly willing to use his size advantage. He rolled Nick under him and bit his neck, mouthing along his throat in a way that always made Nick go limp.

“So you think,” Nick said, twisting himself free, “that because you were caught up in her, that’s why you have problems in house?”

“Of course,” Graves said. As if the answer was obvious. They resettled themselves. Nick sighed and rolled his eyes.

“What was that sound for, Nick?”

“I don’t get how someone so smart, so… I dunno…strategic? Can be so stupid,” Nick said.

“What?” Graves gave him another shove.

“How long you been this giant international warlord crime-boss-type person?”

“A long bloody time.”

“Don’t you have…some kind of…assistant warlords? Like, I get you’re the big boss, but don’t you have deputies or whatever?”

“I do. Of course, I do,” Graves said.

“Well that’s where the fuckup is, man. In the movies, it’s always the number two guy.”

“That’s David Bishop you are talking about,” Graves laughed. Nick kicked at him.

“You know what I mean. And David Bishop is always with you. So he don’t count.”

“Nick darling…this isn’t a movie.”

“I’m just sayin! Whoever the highest ranking guy—who isn’t with you all the time—that’s your fuckup. You can’t blame it on this beautiful goddess.”

“I don’t blame her!” Graves was frowning at the photo. “Nick, that isn’t possible. It doesn’t—”

“I bet it is. I bet, if you look real close, you’ll see this shit been in the works for a while. Before the hot Cuban doctor,” Nick said. He lay back on the warm deck, hands tucked under his head and started humming to himself. When he realized it was the theme from The Godfather he snorted again and sighed.

“So stupid,” he muttered.

Staring at the softly purpling sky his slurred mind gradually picked up on Graves’s silence. His silence and perfect stillness. The big man was frozen in place, eyes far away, full mouth slightly open.

“You okay, big guy?” Nick said, worried. “You know I’m kidding right? I ain’t saying it’s like a movie. I’m just busting your chops a little.”

Graves got to his feet, slowly and carefully. The little shift of his hips he always did to calibrate his prosthetics and their brief whirring were the only things Nick recognized. Otherwise he was a stranger. Nick sat up in alarm. Graves’s face was distant, closed off, and dark with anger.

“Graves? You okay?” Nick asked, backing up a little. Graves blinked and patted him absently on the shoulder.

“Fine…” he said faintly. He turned and walked inside without another word.

Nick stared after him, unsure what to do or what had happened. He shook his head to clear it. That didn’t help, so he dithered a moment on the deck, drinking his water, and then Graves’s water, then eating the last of the sesame balls.

“Shit. What if I was right?” He went indoors and found Graves pacing in his office, the wide windows shining feverish afternoon light onto his face. He looked old, old and angrier than Nick had ever seen. David Bishop was there, sitting in a chair, his head flung back, arm over his eyes. Russ and Charlotte burst through the door, pushing Nick out of the way.

“Tell me you’re joking!” Russ shouted. “Tell me, right now, eh, that you are fuckin’ about.”

“I’m not,” Graves said. He stopped his pacing and stood with his back to the room, breathing hard through his nose and twisting his head on his neck.

“No,” Russ said. “I won’t believe it.”

“Tony is looking now,” Graves rasped. “But I know what he will find.”

“You were right,” Tony said, coming in. His shoulders were slumped, face tight with anger. He handed Graves a tablet.

“Thank you, Tony,” Graves said but put it down without looking at it. He stayed with his back to the room, hands clasped behind him. Russ sagged, resting his forehead against Bishop’s and saying something to his friend under his breath. He turned and stormed out.

“Bishop, make the call,” Graves said. He still hadn’t turned. “Then all of you out.”

When they were gone, Graves sighed and turned. He startled to see Nick but then let out a deep sigh.

“Nick,” he said softly. “Please stay?” His face was tight with strain, fists still in his pockets.

“Yeah, big guy, of course. Is there anything I can do?”

“Distract me, Nick,” he said. “If I can avoid chewing off my own arm until tomorrow it would be good for everyone. Maybe we can watch a film, or perhaps play cards, or—”

“Yeah, sure man, I’m pretty sober now. I’d like to stay that way—”

So they settled on the couch, Nick sitting up with the remote, Graves lying flat with his head in Nick’s lap. His face was still drawn and angry. Nick couldn’t help himself. He ran a hand over Graves’s brow, smoothing the furrows there.

“Relax, man, don’t think about nothing for a couple of hours,” he said.

Amber eyes blinked up at him.

“You’re a wise man, Nick, wiser than me.”

“You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Graves said. “Clear as day.”

“Nothing you can do until tomorrow, apparently,” Nick said. “So let it go, man. Relax. It’s all gonna work out.”

“Is it?” Graves asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Nick said. “Then you can stop being pissed at that chick and stop being such an enormous asshole all the time.”

“Your language is a delight,” Graves said, dry as a bone. He let his eyes close. “Keep doing that.”

“What?” Nick asked.

“Rubbing this over-tired brain of mine. Maybe I’ll sleep,” Graves said.

“Yeah, man, I mean it’s not a very subtle excuse to get me to pet you like a fucking cat, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

“I’ll be subtle later,” Graves said. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll be terribly subtle and cunning.”

*

Graves let his mind wander, thinking about how many betrayals he had to endure before he could just…stop. And how could he stop? What if…what if you really did retire, old boy? Could you still take care of your people? The thoughts could barely form. They were too improbable, too difficult to think about with Nick’s hand on his brow. The whole world was Nick’s hand, warm and dry, smoothing away his worry. If I do nothing else but keep this boy—that would be enough. Just him.

“Graves, how did it happen?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re the boss of Red Sky.”

Graves turned his head with a frown, trying to look Nick in the eyes.

“I am,” he said.

“Why? I suppose, but not really—I mean—how? You don’t seem—”

“Like an international criminal mastermind?”

“God your ego… No, you’re definitely a gangster. But I suppose I don’t understand how you got this way? I don’t really know what I am asking… You’re a Kiwi, Māori, and then an English lord, a soldier, and then a billionaire running a drug cartel?”

“It is a bit of a ramble when you put it that way,” Graves said.

“I guess I want to know the part about getting from being a soldier to Red Sky. The rest maybe can wait.”

Graves was quiet a moment, thinking.

“Well, you know I was in Afghanistan,” he said. Nick made an affirmative noise. “The second time my team was on an anti-drug poppy eradication campaign.”

“You must be fucking kidding me!” Nick shouted. “That is ridiculous!”

“The irony… Well, I had just gotten married, you see. And Janey was in law school and Tilda was a baby, and since I had been…disowned I only had my Army salary. Seeing these poor farmers trying to feed their families, and I was trying to feed mine—and the Taliban were just so bad at the logistics of it all. I mean the market failures and risk management and all the basic logistics of moving the dope from one place to another… It drove me mad.”

“You were mad at the Taliban because they were bad at their business.” Nicholas deadpanned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, one night Bishop and I, drunk and angry, since we had lost someone on a raid that barely paused less than ten kilos of heroin on its path—bah—what a waste! We talked through the whole how we would do it thing.”

“I went home—and it’s not glamorous you know, barracks housing—a lieutenant’s salary. I did an op in Burma—don’t ask—it was ugly. But I loved the place. Smoked opium for the first time—liked that very much.” He paused so long that Nick wasn’t sure if Graves had fallen asleep. But then he gave a shrug, his shoulders shifting Nick’s thigh, and he continued.

“After…” He gestured to his legs. “I ended up in Burma again. I was in a bad way. The less said about that time the better. Bishop found me—we started running guns and opium. I didn’t set out to manage the whole syndicate, but I suppose I had a knack for the business and the political side of things. My foster father should be proud. He always wanted me to run some empire for him.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“He knows I am alive, and that his men can’t reach me.”

“Is that good?

“He is a bad man, so yes,” Graves said with a sigh.

“You’re a pretty bad man too,” Nick said, planting a kiss on Graves’s cheek. Graves laughed.

“That is fair. I have done some terrible things,” he said.

“And they don’t bother you?” Nick asked.

“Some of them. Some of them don’t,” Graves said with a shrug. “I’ve learned to live with it. I take care of my people. The things I do for them are worth it to me.”

“Graves?” Nick said softly.

“Yes, darling?”

“You need someone to take care of you.”

Graves gave a surprised bark of laughter.

“What nonsense is this now?” he said.

Nick put a hand over his mouth.

“You need someone to take care of you,” he repeated. Graves closed his eyes again and snorted.

He bit Nick’s fingers and said, “Bloody nonsense. I take care of my people. And I will take care of you too, boy. You don’t have to worry.”

“Graves,” Nick said softly. “Admit you need me.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Nick said. “Admit you need me. Admit it.”

Graves rolled up, grabbing Nick and flipping him sideways, looming over him. He pressed his forehead and nose against Nick’s and breathed a moment, gathering his courage.

“I need you desperately,” Graves whispered. “I want you—more than I can ever describe.”

Nick’s arms were around his neck pulling him in even tighter, and he felt more grounded. He exhaled hard, his fingers digging into Nick’s shoulders.

“You’ve forced me to become better, smarter, kinder,” Graves confessed. “You treat me as a—a whole man—you don’t let me slide or accept my excuses.”

He paused, gasping for breath, terrified at what was coming out of his mouth.

“I am—” He licked his lips, held Nick’s blue eyes with his own. “—I am f-f-falling in l-love with you.”

There was an echoing pause, and Graves felt vertigo so intense he whined. But then Nick’s smile blazed forth, a blush rising like the sun up his throat and over his cheeks.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You mean it.”

“I do,” Graves said. “I am t-t-t-terrified of you, N-n-n—damn it, darling.”

“Good. I’m terrified of you too,” Nick said, taking Graves’s face in both his hands. “I love you, Graves.” Graves kissed him, hard and raw, wanting to mark him, his heart pounding so hard his ears were ringing.

“Does this m-m-mean,” Graves rasped, “that you will c-c-c-come with me, when I g-go?”

“Yes,” Nick breathed. “My stuff is already here. Russ and I worked out all the details.”

“Christ,” Graves said wonderingly. “I w-w-wonder when he was going to t-t-t-tell m-m-m-me?”

“Maybe when you noticed the funds transferred to a bank account in my name in some place called Seashell?” Nick said. Graves gave a shout of laughter, face on Nick’s chest.

“Seychelles,” he said. “An offshore account? Clever boy.” He couldn’t stop kissing him.

“Insurance,” Nick gasped out. He moaned and Graves mouthed harder on his neck, scraping the scruff on his chin.

“I want you,” Graves said. Nick hesitated, pulling back a little.

“I…”

“I won’t hurt you,” Graves said. “Not ever. But I want you. Now.”

He sat up, took Nick’s face in his hands, and tilted it up to meet him. First, he kissed softly, upper and lower lips, taking his time to feel Nick relax. When he slid his arms around Graves’s middle, Graves kissed him more deeply, parting his lips and coaxing Nick to do the same. The first hesitant curl of Nick’s tongue against his made him shiver. When Nick’s lips parted in a low moan, Graves pressed the advantage and slid his tongue into Nick’s mouth, barely teasing against his teeth, sucking on his lower lip. The kiss deepened, and Graves pushed harder, kneading Nick’s shoulders and plundering his mouth. He wanted. He wanted so badly.

“I’m taking you to bed,” he said.

“Yes,” Nick said, making little huffing breaths against Graves’s neck. Graves stood and picked Nick up, hands under his firm ass, and carried him to bed.

They stripped out of their clothes and Graves pushed Nick back and down. He kneeled between Nick’s thighs and Nick took a deep breath, feeling nervous and worried.

“Graves?” Nick asked.

“Mmm?” Graves replied kissing Nick’s mouth and wrapping him in his arms.

“Are you going to—I mean—are we?” He wasn’t sure how to ask. He licked his lips and tried again. “Are you going to—?”

“Fuck you?” Graves asked with a rumble. “God, yes.” Nick’s cock twitched and he drew in a ragged breath. A thrill of fear went through him, immediately overwhelmed by lust.

“I want it,” he said. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Good boy,” Graves said approvingly. “When you’re ready, I am going to take this hard little ass of yours and make you come without even touching yourself.” His teeth dug into Nick’s throat a little harder, and Nick tilted his head back, wanting more. He whined, feeling his cock swelling against his thigh. He could feel how hard Graves was too.

“I’m going to take you whenever I want, wherever I want. You’re going to live with my cock in you.”

“And when—?” he gasped as Graves squeezed him again, grinding his cock against Nick’s thigh. “When will I be ready?” he asked. Graves smiled at him fondly, showing far more teeth than seemed trustworthy. Nick shivered but leaned in to kiss his lips anyway.

“Hmmm,“ Graves purred and slid a hand down between them, ignoring Nick’s prick and reaching under his balls. His fingers grazed on Nick’s opening.

“Lay on your belly,” he said. Nick did and Graves sat up, straddling the back of Nick’s legs.

“Show me your pussy, Nick,” he said. Nick didn’t hesitate. He reached back with both hands and spread his cheeks, his long pale fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. Graves groaned out loud.

“Oh God, so beautiful, no bigger than the tip of my bloody thumb. I’m going to wreck you, Nick.” He bent slowly at the waist, his hands on either side of Nick’s hips. He kissed the little pink bud gently. Nick gasped and goose bumps pebbled his lower back. Graves kissed him again, slower this time, letting his tongue dab at the folds and bumps of Nick’s anus. He kissed it like a mouth.

Nick whined and arched back.

“That’s so goddamn hot,” Nick blurted. “I want you to wreck me, Graves. I want everything.”

“A bloody virgin,” he laughed. “Oh, darling, your ass was made to be eaten,” he mumbled, beginning to lick more firmly. “Made to be fucked. I’ve never seen a prettier thing in my life.”

Nick’s body could barely react to what was happening. His cock was rock-hard, and his skin shivered uncontrollably. The sounds he was making didn’t even feel like they came from his own mouth. He was getting soft. Soft and open. His thighs wanted to spread, desperately needed to spread, but Graves had them secure between his own and the steel and composite carbon fiber were not moving an inch.

When Graves added fingers, nudging and stroking in circles while his tongue dipped and pushed, Nick bit down on the blanket and grunted deep in his chest. He shoved back, not caring if it threw Graves off. The sensations were so intense he couldn’t think. He heard Graves laugh and yelped when he smacked Nick’s ass.

“What are you trying to do, sweet boy?”

Nick squirmed and scrambled until he was free and then spread his legs as far as they would go. His knees up by his ribs and back arched hard, he settled again.

“Oh I see,” Graves purred. He lay his body so his cock slotted between Nick’s cheeks, pointed down. Nick could feel the shaft rubbing against his hole. “You were trying to offer that little ass up for me?”

Nick nodded frantically, his hips stuttering. Graves chuckled.

“Good. Good boy,” he said. “That’s how I want you thinking.”

He pulled a condom and the bottle of lube from the side table and put some on his fingers before reaching for Nick again. His fingers circled Nick’s opening, barely using any pressure at all and Nick sighed, lolling his head down to his forearm.

“I want you. But I won’t push,” Graves said. “You’re mine now. I can take my time.”

“I want it,” Nick said breathily. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he felt the big man’s eagerness. His channel clenched at the idea, squeezing against Graves’s fingers that were still circling.

“You like the idea of having me inside you,” Graves rumbled. It wasn’t a question. Nick nodded, his eyes still closed.

“You are going to have to say it sooner or later, Nick.” Graves crooned. “I am going to make you say it, make you beg for it, in fact.” He poured more oil on his hand and massaged the area behind Nick’s balls more firmly, digging his fingers into the muscles at the tops of Nick’s thighs, pushing around his entrance.

“I want it,” Nick whispered.

“Say it, baby boy,” Graves growled and Nick shuddered as Graves’s thick finger pushed into him.

“Holy shit. That feels— Oh God. I want you to fuck me, I just—” Nick’s voice shook. Graves finger was sliding in and out. Inside. Inside my body, Jesus. Not like when I do it at all.

“You’re nervous,” Graves said. He slid a hand over Nick’s forehead, sweeping his sweaty hair back from his eyes. He also added a second finger, and Nick’s hips twisted in pleasure as Graves stroked down over his prostate.

“Will it hurt?” Nick gasped.

“If I am not careful? Yes. It could hurt a lot. But I won’t ever hurt you.” Then the liar nipped Nick’s left ass cheek and slapped it so hard Nick yelped. “Not unless you ask me to,” he said. Nick moaned, mouth open and neck arched.

“I want it hard,” Nick said, his breath catching as he heard himself. “I like it rough.”

“I don’t think you know what you are asking,” Graves said with a laugh. But then he forced both fingers in as far as he could reach and yanked Nick more tightly into his arms. “But you are going to get your wish, eventually. I have been staring at that ass of yours long enough. I want to breed you until you cry, Nick,” he snarled. “So hard you beg me to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Nick moaned, “Please, Graves, please, even when I beg.” He was panting openmouthed now.

“What are your safe words, darling?” Graves asked, twisting his wrist, pulling Nick open. His self-control was slipping fast. He tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and fumbled it on, wincing at how tight it was.

“I don’t know,” Nick said.

“All right. Silver means slow down, hammer means stop,” Graves said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “Silver. Hammer.”

“Good boy,” Graves said, licking over Nick’s lips. “Don’t hesitate even for a moment, Nick. Use your safe words, baby. Don’t try to tough it out.”

“Okay,” Nick said faintly. His hips were moving on their own, rocking into Graves’s palm.

“Good,” Graves said, and Nick moaned as Graves’s hands returned to his opening, stroking and nudging and now finally pushing a third finger all the way in. Nick gasped at the feeling but didn’t resist. He had fingered himself before; he forced his body to relax and let Graves work.

“Such a good boy,” Graves said approvingly as Nick’s ass swallowed his fingers. “Are you going to open up for me?”

“Yes,” Nick gasped as Graves tugged at his rim, pulling and pushing to open him.

“I want to bury myself in you Nick,” Graves growled. “You’ll be so beautiful on my cock.” Graves resumed moving his fingers, turning his wrist gently. His other hands rubbed slow circles on Nick’s lower back, soothing and gentle. “But it will hurt at first.”

“I want it” Nick gasped, feeling his rim widen around Graves’s fingers. “Please, Graves.”

Graves crooked his fingers and brushed Nick’s prostate. Every time he did, Nick’s cock gave a little spasm, precome dribbling freely onto the sheets. Nick brought his arms in front of him and rested his forehead on them. He pushed back against Graves’s fingers in little rocking movements, relishing the slide.

“Please—I can’t stand this anymore,” Nick said, his teeth clenched.

“Be more specific, baby boy,” Graves said. He spread his fingers and fucked them into Nick a little harder, twisting them, holding Nick’s rim open. Nick cried out and pushed back hard, his cock slapping against his belly.

“Fuck me,” Nick whispered and he felt Graves pause. “I’m ready. It’s my first time, it’s supposed to hurt.” Graves pulled his fingers out and rested his hands on Nick’s hips.

“I won’t hurt you, Nick. Remember your safewords, darling. Understand?” Graves whispered in Nick’s ear.

“Turn over.”

Nick did, his legs shaking like a new foal. Now that it was real, that it was really going to happen, he was breathing in little hiccuping gasps. Looking up at Graves like this, with his legs spread, was terrifying. Graves smiled. His eyes disappeared and he folded over, wrapping Nick up in his arms.

“My darling, you look like you’re facing a firing squad,” he laughed. He kissed Nick then, slow and firm, warm full lips and curling tongue. It felt like a kiss in a movie—Nick’s brain wasn’t up to sophisticated analogies—but Graves was taking what he wanted, and Nick was melting into it, offering up his mouth, his throat, feeling the trembling in his belly shift from fear to eagerness.

Graves’s fingers found their way to his opening again, gentle strokes, pushing in, pulling out, circling.

“Stay soft for me, Nikki,” he said. “Now look at me.”

Nick did. Graves’s amber eyes, with their flecks of darker brown, were peaceful, calm. Nick sighed.

“That’s it,” Graves said. “I have you. Hold on to me.”

Nick crossed his wrists behind Graves’s thick neck and wrapped his legs around his waist. He felt the large hand under his tailbone, lifting him, shifting. Then Nick felt it. Soft and round, impossibly silky—the head of Graves’s cock felt as big as a billiard ball. Nick squeezed his eyes shut.

“No,” Graves said. “Look at me.”

Nick opened his eyes. Graves was shaking his head, clearly amused. He pushed his forehead against Nick’s.

“Breathe with me,” he said. “Breathe and keep looking at me.”

The first nudge and push, feeling his outer ring spreading, without any resistance, made Nick let out a long slow groan.

“See?” Graves said. “I won’t hurt you. Keep your eyes on mine my love. And breathe.”

Slow, it was so slow, the sense of wrongness, of something inside his body where nothing should be, could barely catch onto Nick’s mind. There was a burn, but it felt far away. Graves nudged in and out, pushing a little more each time. He rumbled his approval to Nick in a torrent of words, keeping him grounded and present.

“That’s it my sweet boy,” he said, his eyes blinking and breath rasping against Nick’s mouth. “So soft; what a good boy; push down now; let me in.”

Nick felt like he had no control over his body, the only thing keeping him remotely in place were Graves’s eyes and his deep voice.

Something inside him gave way, and the huge cock slid forward again. The stretch defied belief, and Nick found his mouth opening, matching the feel inside him.

“You’re so tight my love,” Graves said through gritted teeth. “You’re doing so well. I’m inside you now; it’s okay. Almost there.”

Almost? The idea was impossible. Graves was filling every available scrap of space inside him. Nick’s cock was soft against his belly. He didn’t think he would ever be hard again. Every part of his awareness was between his thighs, was the slow in and out push into his open body. It went on forever. Only holding his eyes kept the intensity from being too much. It was Graves. Everything was all right because it was Graves inside him, Graves taking him. He trusted Graves.

“That’s right, darling,” Graves said softly. “It’s me. This feels right because it’s me. You’re mine now.” Nick whined, realizing he had been speaking out loud.

“Yes, Graves, yours. Yours. Please,” This last came in a sob, he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “Please, please, please.”

“Almost,” Graves laughed. “You have to trust me baby. Just be soft. Let me take you.”

And then it was done, and he was nestled right up against Nick’s hips. He filled Nick to the brim, like he was an empty vessel and Graves took up every part inside him. Inside me. Inside my body. In my ass. He has his cock in my ass. It was important to think the exact words. To make himself face it. He was a man, spread open the way women had been for him, with a man’s cock stuffed inside him. There was no sugarcoating or downplaying or making pretty euphemisms. I’m taking cock. I like it. It feels good. The words embarrassed him, thrilled him.

“Nick,” Graves said. He was smiling again. “Come back. Come back from wherever you went.”

Nick gave Graves a wobbly smile.

“Just feeling it. Feeling what it means. You’re inside me.”

“My sweet boy,” Graves said. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” he said. No that sounded dumb. “Good. Oh God, Graves, I can’t even get hard, and I think I’m going to come. It’s… It’s too big. I feel…”

“That’s all right,” Graves whispered. “That happens. I know it’s big, baby. You can take it. Cry if you need to; it’s all right.”

Graves’s arms came all the way around him so they were cheek to cheek. Cry? What? He realized, even as he thought it, his eyes were wet. But he wasn’t crying. He was overwhelmed.

“I’m gonna come,” he panted into Graves’s ear. “Please. I’m not hard. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Graves said and pulled out, just a few inches, and then pushed back in. “It’s all right.”

“I’m…”

“Shh,” Graves said. His voice was a barely contained growl, the English accent falling away. “I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to mark you as mine. You’re going to come with my cock in your ass, Nick.” He began to roll his hips harder, a firm front to back that made Nick huff out a grunt every time Graves’s balls slapped against his tailbone. Graves was right; he was going to come. He could feel the pleasure twisting up his spine, in the sockets of his hips. His cock snapped to attention, getting hard so fast it hurt, straining between their bellies.

“Oh God, yes,” he breathed. I didn’t know it would feel like this. The friction on his opening was more intense in its way than the brushes over his prostate. Graves pushed up onto his elbows, and Nick was hanging there, being shoved back and forth on Graves’s cock, starting to swing in counterrhythm, their bodies slapping together, wet and hard.

“Oh, Nick, come for me,” Graves moaned. “Let me feel it, baby. Come all over us.”

Nick was opening his mouth to say he couldn’t when he did. His orgasm roared through him, snapping his hips and making him arch his neck back, crying out a garbled nonsense of oh God, please, yes. Graves grabbed his ass in both hands and plowed into him, smacking his hips down hard. Muttering “mine, mine, mine” through gritted teeth, he came as well, cursing and groaning into Nick’s neck.

Their hips kept rocking together, wringing the last few possible drops of pleasure before they slowed and collapsed together. Graves shifted his hips enough to slip free of Nick’s body.

“Oh, Nick,” he said. “My darling boy.” Nick’s breath hitched, and he shuddered. He raised his face and Graves kissed him. His shivering stilled with Graves’s weight on him. His mouth was softer, not so demanding. He was making sweet little rumbles, rubbing Nick’s sides in slow circles.

“Graves,” Nick sighed. “Goddamn, that was good.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Nick said. “I feel… I feel so good.” He couldn’t find more sophisticated words.

“Nick?” Graves said, propping himself up on one elbow. “I have to tell you.” He pushed Nick’s sweaty hair back, and cupped his face. “My feelings for you are running away with me.”

“Me too,” Nick said. “I love you, Graves.” The big man looked away, an uneasy frown curling his tattoos.

“Christ, Nick, are you sure you even want me? I’m almost twice your age. My body is smashed to bits. I’m—”

“Shut up,” Nick whispered. “Just shut up.” He rubbed his forehead against Graves’s. “Not now,” he added. “Just feel this. Please. I don’t care about your legs, or that you can’t talk when you’re nervous. Just stop. Not now.” He sighed.

“All right,” Graves said, pulling Nick into a tight hug. “All right. Tomorrow then.”