Rory watched him go and smiled when Magnus broke away from the group to walk back to him. “You want to sit?” Rory asked when Magnus reached him and threaded their fingers together.
Magnus hummed, leaning up and pressing a kiss just under Rory’s jaw. “Not out here.”
Rory raised an eyebrow, but followed right behind him when Magnus tugged on his hand and led him to one of the Employee Only doors and straight back to his office. He pushed Rory inside, then shut the door and twisted the lock.
“Magnus?”
He turned slowly and stalked across the distance between them, backing Rory up until the back of knees hit the edge of the couch. He went down with an ompf and a laugh as Magnus straddled his lap, wriggling his ass with a sexy smile.
“I want to sit here,” he purred, swallowing Rory’s groan when he sealed their mouths together. He ground his erection against Magnus’s ass while Magnus stripped off his coat and shirt before pushing Rory’s coat off his shoulders and reaching for his belt. “I want to ride you,” Magnus panted, jumping to his feet and stripping himself bare.
“Jesus,” Rory cursed, taking in the long beautiful lines of Magnus’s body.
“Lube?” Magnus asked, and Rory lifted his ass, digging his wallet out and pushing his pants and underwear down his thighs. Magnus pulled the packet of lube out, then tossed Rory’s wallet onto the couch beside him. They’d forgone using condoms since neither of them had been with anyone since they’d last tested negative. And now, Rory thought, I’ll never be with anyone else again. He supposed that thought might have been depressing for some men, but it filled him with such an overwhelming rush of gratitude. This man was his, and he was Magnus’s. Completely and without question.
Two of Magnus’s lube covered fingers disappeared behind him for only a moment before he was coating Rory’s cock with the remainder of the packet. Magnus grabbed a tissue off his desk and wiped his hand before throwing it in the direction of the trash can and climbing back onto Rory’s lap.
Rory slid his hands up Magnus’s thighs to his hips and gritted his teeth to keep from shouting as Magnus slowly lowered himself onto Rory, enveloping him in his tight, wet heat.
“Oh god,” Magnus moaned, lifting himself and sliding back down. Rory would have agreed if he’d had the ability to speak. It was too good. The connection between them an all-consuming fire. Reaching up, he gripped the back of Magnus’s neck and pulled him down into a hard kiss. It was all teeth, and tongue, and panted breaths as Magnus picked up his pace, swiveling his hips and riding Rory hard.
Rory got a hand around Magnus, tugging and twisting at the head until Magnus exploded all over them both. Rory followed right behind him, the silken heat of Magnus’s channel pulling every drop from him and still demanding more.
Magnus collapsed against him, spreading his release around and Rory chuckled, burying his nose in Magnus’s hair.
“Shit, Maggie,” Rory said, still breathless.
“Right?” Magnus agreed, sounding worn out and sleepy.
“Don’t go to sleep on me, love.”
“But you make the best pillow.” The whine in his voice was so cute Rory couldn’t help but give in. Gently, he pulled himself from Magnus’s body and stripped off his ruined shirt, using it to clean them both up before arranging them a little more comfortably.
“I love you,” Magnus whispered against his chest.
“I love you, too,” Rory said, rubbing his hand up and down Magnus’s back. “Take a little rest. I’ll wake in a few minutes, and we can go celebrate with our family.”
Magnus hummed. “Sounds perfect.”
Epilogue
Magnus was nervous. He didn’t know why exactly, but he’d never stood beside someone he loved while they said goodbye to someone else. Rory looked wonderful in his suit, sleek and handsome and solemn.
It had taken some paperwork, but they were able to have Caleb legally declared dead. Out of a sense of false hope, Magnus had secretly asked Rocco to have some of his European contacts search...just in case, but there had been no sign. One day there had been a boy named Caleb Finlay Reid, and the next it was as if all traces of him had been wiped away.
Rory pulled in a deep breath as they stood in front of the grave marker he’d had placed on the empty plot. It simply read: Caleb, beloved brother and uncle.
“I wish I could have known you,” Rory’s brogue laden voice was quiet and so filled with sadness that Magnus’s heart clenched in his chest. “But you will never be forgotten. Goodbye, Uncle Caleb.”
Magnus reached for Rory’s hand, threading their fingers together and holding on. Just like he would do for the rest of their lives.
End of Matched Intensity
Prologue
Chicago, A couple years ago
They stumbled into the hotel room. Vidar Rourke kicked the door shut, pitching the room into darkness before he pressed his quarry back against it and sealed their mouths together. This whole trip had been about getting away and scratching an itch, like all the other ones he’d taken before it, but he never imagined getting to scratch this particular itch again.
“Fuck, Vi,” Rocco groaned against him when Vidar moved from kissing his lips to nip along his stubbled jaw. When he’d seen Roc in the bar earlier, he’d done a double take. Rocco Zanetti had been his first...everything. First kiss, first sex, first love, but after the complete implosion of their last time together, he’d buried everything he felt about Roc, about sex, about love, and left his youth behind. A sacrifice to atone for the void he’d created—for ripping his family apart.
“Vi,” Roc’s voice was a rough plea, and the sound of it made him pause. With eyes adjusted to the darkness, Vidar pulled back, catching the shine of Roc’s eyes from the faint light coming around the edges of the closed curtain across the room. For a heavy moment, they just stared at each other from inches away. Roc’s hands slid up Vidar’s chest, brushing up his throat until they cupped his cheeks. Then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Vidar’s lips. Sucking in a breath, Vidar kissed him back, opening his mouth and feeling the jolt low in his belly when their tongues brushed together. “Be here. With me,” he whispered against Vidar’s lips.
Roc wasn’t a small man, six feet of runner’s muscle, but Vidar gripped his ass and lifted. Roc wrapped his legs around him like they were fifteen all over again, holding on when Vidar turned and walked the short distance to the bed. He laid Roc down and followed him, settling between his legs and relishing the warmth there, the outline of the hard length pressing against his own. “I’m here,” he said against Roc’s lips before kissing him until they were both breathless.
Roc’s hand tugged on his shirt and he lifted enough to rip it over his head and send it careening out into the shadows of the room. All Vidar had to do was touch the hem of the dark gray v-neck Rocco was wearing for him sit up enough for Vi to pull it off him. They fell back to the bed together, skin-to-skin. Vidar took a deep breath, gliding his hands over the bumps and ridges of Rocco’s torso and shivering at the feel of familiar skin layered over planes of hardened muscle that hadn’t been there the last time he’d had his hands on this man.
“Not quite boys anymore,” Roc said, his hands taking a similar journey over Vidar’s exposed skin.
“Definitely not,” Vidar murmured before diving down and closing his mouth over a dark brown nipple. He sucked hard, making Roc gasp, then stroked the hardened nub with his tongue.
“Jesus.” Rocco threaded his fingers through Vidar’s blond hair, pulling enough to make him growl.
“What do you want?” he asked against Roc’s spit-slick skin.
“Just you.”
Vidar didn’t know how to tell him that was the one thing he wasn’t sure he could give.
Rural Missouri
Last August
Vidar wasn’t sure what had surprised him more, that Roc had actually taken his call after the way he’d left in Chicago or how quickly he’d managed to find Niko’s brother.
<
br /> Niko.
He’d let himself get way too attached to their newest tattoo apprentice. One kiss and he’d morphed into a virgin schoolboy—completely addicted. Just like he’d been with Roc. Then finding out Niko was half-starving himself in some attempt to scrape together enough money to pay a two-bit hack investigator to find his brother had blown the top right off Vidar’s head. He wouldn’t have it. Picking up the phone and dialing Roc’s number had never been so easy. Niko needed him and Roc needed to hear from him—making the two men he needed most unknown catalysts for the other.
“Okay.” Roc moved to stand beside him back in the treeline behind the run-down looking farmhouse where the Crossmen, a motorcycle gang with their hands in all kinds of illegal pies, were keeping Luca. “Mace has eyes on Luca. Looks like they’ve got him in an upstairs bedroom on the southside of the house.” Mace was the Sergeant-at-Arms for the Iron Heretics motorcycle gang, a rival of the Crossmen, and apparently an excellent sniper.
“And you trust these Heretic guys?” Vi looked over, but was only able to catch impressions of Roc’s face in the darkness. The moon was out tonight, but they’d chosen a spot far enough back in the trees that they could watch the house without being seen. It had become apparent Roc was exactly as good an investigator as he claimed to be and had the connections to back it up. Vidar never dreamed one of those connections would be an outlaw motorcycle gang, but the Iron Heretics had proved resourceful, if a little cocky.
“I trust Mace,” Roc answered, never looking away from the farmhouse.
Vidar nodded. He wanted to say something; something to bridge the distance between them, but at the same time he was thankful for its presence. His head was a mess. Telling Niko he had to stay behind had been hard, but Vi couldn’t worry about protecting him if things went south. It was bad enough he’d dragged Rory into this with him. His best friend hadn’t even hesitated, not that Vidar had thought he would. Rory had walked off farther back into the trees a while ago, and Vi thought he’d heard him talking quietly to someone on the phone..
Roc lowered the night vision scope he’d had pressed to his eye. “Looks like the last of them finally passed out. Let’s go get your boy’s brother.”
“Roc,” Vidar started, wrapping a hand around Rocco’s wrist and stopping him from walking away. “I’m sorry about Chicago.”
Roc’s shoulders slumped for a moment, then he straightened up and looked Vidar in the eye. “It’s okay, Vi. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Even if that were true, I do now.”
Roc chuckled. “Oh, you’ll be getting a bill, don’t worry.”
Vidar nodded. “It’s good to see you.”
Pulling his wrist from Vidar’s grip, Roc slid his hand until he was holding Vidar’s. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Chapter One
The car pulled to a stop behind the dark brick warehouse that housed Rourke MMA and Open Wounds, but to Niko, the sight of the big bay doors and the metal stairs leading up to the second story had come to signify something so much more than just a place of business—it was home.
Rocco Zanetti let out a small sigh as he shifted the car into park, the white artificial glow of the security beam highlighting the shift and bunch of muscle under the olive skin of his forearm. Other than the soft glow from the dashboard, that strip of light was the only illumination in the car, and despite the nice dinner they’d just had, a tense, thoughtful silence settled around them as their eyes were drawn to the high windows in the bay doors still glowing brightly. Someone was working late tonight. The thick, unspoken longing in the air said they both knew who.
Niko swallowed and looked down at his hands where they were clasped together in his lap. “I had a nice time tonight.”
Warm, strong fingers glided down his forearm and twined between his. “So did I,” Rocco said, voice smooth and rich. Lifting his head, Niko met Roc’s eyes. They were so similar in complexion with their deeply tanned skin and dark hair and eyes, but so different in body. Where Niko was short and compact, Roc was tall and lean with well-defined, sinewy muscles.
They’d spent the night dancing at a new nightclub in town, being eyes and ears, and giving Magnus the chance to confront an ex-boyfriend that had assaulted him. The night had been a success, but the way Vidar had looked at him and Roc when they’d gotten back to Viridian was still seared into Niko’s brain. He really liked Rocco, but despite the desire that Roc brought out in him, he felt like something was missing. Someone, really. It had only taken one time of seeing Roc and Vidar in the same room to know that he wasn’t alone in that feeling. He just didn’t know what to do about it. There was history there. Niko didn’t know the details, but he didn’t really have to. The two men obviously cared about each other, but Vidar was Vidar and he didn’t let anyone closer than necessary. Niko knew that all too well.
“Walk you up?” Roc asked, thumb stroking a gentle pattern against Niko’s skin.
Niko nodded at him and they climbed out of the car into the cold evening air. February had brought days full of chilled sunshine and night’s cold enough to make your bones ache. Niko wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Living in Nevada his entire life hadn’t shown him the true scope of the seasons, but there on the outskirts of Cincinnati in the heart of the Midwest he was learning all about cold nights, frosted mornings, and the blankets of snow that had turned the world into a winter wonderland.
With a shiver, he huddled into the jacket he’d thrown on before they set out for the evening, and Roc chuckled.
“What? It’s cold!” Niko said, giving Roc’s shoulder a little shove.
Roc smirked, the long-sleeved blue sweater he was wearing pushed up his elbows, showing off his arms. Both stretches of beautiful tan skin were completely free of ink, unlike his own, and Niko longed to know if there was any hiding under the tasteful clothes Roc always wore. He’d seen him in workout gear—shorts and sleeveless shirts—but he’d never had the pleasure of seeing Roc shirtless...or pantless. It was a damn shame, honestly.
“It’s really not, though. This is mild for this time of year. How have you survived all winter?” Roc wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they began to ascend the metal stairs to the apartment he shared with his brother Luca.
“Layers,” Niko said decisively. “Lots of layers, and I bribed Dagen to do my grocery shopping for me so I didn’t have to leave the building when there was snow on the ground.”
“What about getting to the club? I’m guessing Magnus doesn’t just accept that his star dancer can’t make it downtown because of a little bit of snow.”
“There’s always someone willing to give me a ride if I bat my eyelashes at them,” Niko said, demonstrating his eyelash batting skills before laughing at himself. “Seriously though, the guys and Kayla have really looked out for me since I got here and they look out for Luca now, too.” And he would never be able to express how grateful he was for that. Vidar might have pushed him away and made it clear that nothing was ever going to happen between them—well, nothing else—and while that thought caused a near constant ache in Niko’s heart, he couldn’t deny that Vidar had taken care of him when he needed it most. That he was still taking care of him...even if he was a taciturn asshole about it half the time.
“How’s he doing really? Luca, I mean.”
Niko looked over his shoulder at Rocco as they ascended the stairs, the movement causing his jacket to ride up, letting a gust of cold air brush across his exposed middle and making him shiver.
“He’s doing good. He’s...been to some counseling and we’ve been training a lot with Rory, which I think has helped more than anything. Knowing that he can take care of himself.”
Roc nodded. “That’s really good. I’d been worried about him.”
They reached the landing at the top of the stairs and Niko dug into his pocket for his keys. Luca was already home, but he knew the door would be locked. They didn’t leave either of the apartment doors, this one that led to the outside sta
irs or the one that led down into the tattoo shop, unlocked—ever. Once he’d pulled his keys free, he looked up at Rocco. Niko still didn’t know him all that well, but there was a level of comfort in his presence that Niko rarely experienced with new people. Despite that sense of familiarity, they stood in awkward silence for a moment watching each other.
Finally, Roc chuckled and reached out to pull Niko into a hug. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
“You’re welcome. I think Mission Eye Candy was a rousing success.” Niko exhaled into the warmth of Roc’s arms. Maybe they weren’t quite as large as the ones that he dreamt of holding him every night, but they were nicely muscled and had no problem pulling him tight against a warm, solid chest. He closed his eyes and breathed Roc in, letting the scent of faded cologne and man absorb into him.
“It definitely was. A scumbag is behind bars where he belongs and you…” Roc trailed off with a shake of his head. “You turned every head in the joint.”
Heat rose in Niko’s face as he remembered being pressed back against Roc, grinding his ass against the impressive bulge at the front of his slacks. If they’d truly just been out dancing for fun it would have been an amazing night. “Thanks. I had fun once the crazy was over.”
Roc nodded like he understood and took a step back, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Maybe, uh, we could do it again sometime without all the crazy?”
Niko felt like his heart was lodged in his throat, beating out a crazy rhythm and making his whole body throb with awareness. Should he do that? Could he do that? Despite the rejection, he’d had his mind—his heart—set on Vidar for so long that the thought of anyone else almost felt like betrayal. But that was stupid, wasn’t it? Because Vidar had rejected him and made it clear at every turn that even though he was attracted to Niko—and he was, Niko freaking knew it—nothing would be happening there. He looked up at Rocco, dark eyes kind and full of fire, and knew he needed to be honest, even if it made him feel like a moron.
Open Wounds: The Boxed Set Page 37
