by L. A. Witt
Timur closed his eyes. His fingers slid through Chris’s hair. He tilted his head back, exposing his throat as he swallowed hard. His lips moved, and Marcus couldn’t understand the words, but he damn sure understood the sentiment: Don’t stop.
Julien lifted his head and turned to watch them. “Lucky bastard. Chris’s mouth is incredible.”
That only spurred Chris on. He bobbed his head faster, and Timur’s back arched. Eyes squeezed shut, breath coming in short, sharp puffs, Timur wasn’t speaking any language now, just moaning softly and trembling.
Julien kept an arm around Marcus’s waist, but leaned away enough to slide his hand over Chris’s ass. “You are going to get fucked so hard for what you’re doing to him.”
Chris groaned, which sent a shiver through, well, all of them. Marcus could barely breathe—between Julien’s hard cock against his, the sight of Chris relentlessly going to town on Timur and Timur losing his mind, Marcus wasn’t sure he’d last much longer.
Julien ground against him, driving a string of curses from Marcus’s lips as their cocks rubbed together.
Timur’s eyes opened and locked on Marcus.
All at once, Julien slid a hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Marcus’s dick. Marcus swore again, and Timur fucking lost it.
He gripped Chris’s hair, thrust into his mouth and cried out loud enough he probably woke Marcus’s neighbors. Chris didn’t stop either—he kept stroking and sucking until Timur collapsed back against the headboard and whimpered something that probably meant “enough” in God only knew what language.
Chris sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of a shaking hand.
“After a blowjob like that,” Marcus murmured, somehow out of breath himself, “I think he deserves to be fucked.”
“Mmhmm.” Julien licked his lips. “I’ll get a condom, and you can do the honors.”
Marcus’s breath caught. When Chris glanced back at him with a wicked grin, he shivered. To Julien, he said, “Yeah. Condom.”
Julien chuckled. He kissed the side of Marcus’s neck, then got up to get a condom from the bedside table.
Marcus moved toward Timur and leaned down to kiss him. “You’re gorgeous when you’re that turned on.”
Timur curved a hand around the back of Marcus’s neck. He inhaled like he was going to say something, but let it go and went for a breathless kiss instead.
“Didn’t someone say something about fucking me?” Chris asked.
Marcus turned around, and…oh yeah, Chris needed to be fucked. His eyes were gleaming, his pupils completely blown, and he was slowly stroking his cock as if he needed someone touching him somehow before he went crazy himself.
Marcus kissed Timur once more, then got up on his knees and wrapped an arm around Chris. “After you made him come like that? You’d better believe you’re going to get fucked.”
“Good,” Chris breathed. “Because—”
Marcus cut him off with a kiss. “Hands and knees. Now.”
Chris blinked. Then he obeyed, getting back into more or less the same position he’d been in while he’d worked his magic on Timur.
While Marcus put on the condom, Julien took the liberty of making sure Chris had plenty of lube on him. Even after he handed the bottle to Marcus, he kept teasing Chris, fingering him and stretching him until Chris was trembling, gripping the sheets and threatening Julien with indefinite celibacy if he didn’t let Marcus fuck him right now.
As Julien withdrew his fingers, he glanced at Marcus. “You heard the man.”
“Mmhmm, I did.” Marcus set the lube bottle aside, and when Julien moved out of the way, positioned himself behind Chris. He was tempted to tease Chris even more, just to wind him up, but after the way Chris had turned Timur inside out, he deserved the fuck he was dying for.
Slowly and carefully, he pushed into Chris. He met almost no resistance—Julien had definitely prepped him well—but Chris was tight as hell. Turned on as he was, Marcus doubted he’d last long. Good thing Julien was there to finish the job if Marcus couldn’t.
As he worked himself deeper into Chris, Marcus was barely aware that the other men in the room existed. There was movement in his peripheral vision, voices and activity, but he was too caught up in sliding in and out of Chris’s tight ass.
He found a steady rhythm, and after a while, finally looked up and remembered he and Chris weren’t alone in this room.
Wow. They were definitely not alone.
Timur had moved over, and Julien had taken his place, leaning against the headboard while Chris sucked his cock. And of course, Timur and Julien couldn’t be that close together and keep their hands off each other—Timur’s finger teased Julien’s nipple, and Julien’s hand cupped Timur’s jaw as they kissed languidly.
A gasp separated them. Julien pressed his forehead to Timur’s, eyes squeezed shut and lips murmuring something Marcus couldn’t understand.
Marcus picked up speed. Chris’s head bobbed faster over Julien’s groin. Julien held on to Timur but couldn’t breathe enough to keep kissing him, so Timur kissed his neck instead.
Marcus liked the power—whatever he did to Chris made it to Julien and Timur. If he slowed down, Chris did too. If he sped up, Chris groaned and gave Julien even more.
And if he didn’t slow down again, this was going to be over much, much too soon, and he was not turning Chris back over to Julien quite yet.
Holding Chris’s hips to steady them both, Marcus slowed way down. Chris tried to rock back against him, but Marcus held him still. Which, of course, made Chris tense. Which made him tighter. Which almost—almost—drove Marcus over the edge.
He gritted his teeth and willed himself to stay in control.
Julien and Timur exchanged a few words in French. Then Timur kissed him lightly and got up. He moved to the end of the bed near Marcus, and Marcus’s tenuous grasp on his sanity slipped a little more as Timur’s hand came to rest on the small of his back.
Marcus struggled to maintain some semblance of rhythm, but looking into Timur’s glass-green eyes made it hard to breathe, never mind thrust into another man.
And then Timur kissed him.
And everything else disappeared.
Marcus was aware that two other men were still there, that he was buried deep inside one of them, but only vaguely. One minute he’d been lost in the ecstasy of being in bed with three guys at once, and the next…this. A lazy kiss, a warm, calloused hand on his back and another drifting around the side of his neck. Jesus. How long had it been since he’d experienced a kiss that could make him feel like they were suddenly the only two people in a crowded room?
Someone groaned softly, and the hair on Marcus’s neck stood on end. He remembered where they were. What he was doing. Who else was there.
And didn’t care. He somehow convinced his hips to keep moving, especially as Chris tightened around him and rocked back against him. Marcus tried to focus, tried to give Chris what he obviously wanted, but…Timur. That kiss.
Fuck, his whole body was trembling now. His balls tightened, his spine tingled, and he was so damned close.
The need for air forced Marcus to break the kiss. He drew back with a gasp and met Timur’s eyes.
Timur grinned. Caressed his face. Kissed him again.
And Marcus came.
He moaned into Timur’s kiss, thrust as hard as he could into Chris, and he was sure he’d have collapsed if not for the strong arm holding him up.
As his vision cleared, Marcus broke the kiss and held Chris’s hips for support. “Holy fuck.”
Julien looked up at him. He might’ve had something witty to say, but then he closed his eyes and exhaled as his husband kept sucking his cock. “Fuck…”
Marcus withdrew carefully. “I should…get…” he swept his tongue across his lips, “…get rid of this.”
“Shower’s…” Julien waved a hand in the general direction of the bathroom. “You know where it is.”
“I do.” Marcus kissed Timur lightly. “Be right back.”
He managed to get up and stay on his feet, and made it into the bathroom without his knees dropping out from under him. He took care of the condom, washed his hands and paused for a moment to collect himself. Palms flat on the counter, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
What the hell had happened? One minute, it was nothing but purely hedonistic pleasure. Four guys getting each other wound up and turned on because why the hell not.
And then…
That look. That kiss. That man.
Holy fuck.
“Marcus?”
He turned around. That man, indeed.
Marcus swallowed, leaning against the counter for support. “You didn’t…shouldn’t you be with them? They haven’t gotten—”
One of the guys moaned and cursed. Okay, so they were obviously doing all right on their own.
“They’re…” Timur chuckled and waved a hand toward the bedroom as he came closer to Marcus. “Is good.”
“Yeah.” Marcus licked his lips. “Is good.”
“You’re all right?”
“I…” I don’t know. Don’t ask complicated questions when you’re looking at me like that. Shit, Timur. What’s going on? “I’m all right.”
Timur wrapped his arms around Marcus, drawing him away from the counter, and Marcus didn’t have much choice but to melt against him. It wasn’t just because he didn’t have the support anymore, or because he didn’t quite trust his knees yet. He just…couldn’t do anything else. One touch from Timur, and he wanted more. As much skin touching skin as possible.
Timur held his gaze. Marcus wasn’t sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said. Or how to explain to Timur—with or without the language barrier—that he hadn’t looked at a guy like this in a long, long time, and that it scared the hell out of him.
Or, he realized as he trailed his fingers along Timur’s sharp jaw, the fact that it hadn’t been that long since he’d looked at someone like this. Last night. The night before. The night before that. Somewhere along the line, Timur had stopped being a casual piece of ass, one half of an agreement to fuck with no strings attached before the time came to go their separate ways, and he’d turned into…this. Someone Marcus couldn’t look at without his breath catching. Even while he was fucking another man, one look from Timur could throw Marcus’s world completely off its axis.
Timur’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re really all right? You seem…”
Marcus smiled. “I’m fine.” He drew Timur down and, just before their lips met, murmured, “Is good.”
Is terrifying. Is confusing.
But somehow…
Is good.
Chapter Seventeen
Chris and Julien were tireless. So was Timur. Though Marcus had several years on all of them, he didn’t struggle to keep up with them, but when it was all over, he was exhausted. Driving home? Not a chance.
As he and Timur settled into bed in the guest room, his body ached, but his mind wasn’t quite ready to drift off yet.
Neither, apparently, was Timur’s.
“Will be strange soon.” He ran his fingers up and down Marcus’s arm. “Going back.”
Marcus watched him for a moment. “What makes a man join the Legion, anyway?”
Timur cocked his head. “Makes a man…?”
“I mean…” Marcus searched for the words, “…why did you join the Legion?”
“Opportunity.” Timur shrugged. “Thought there’d be more money and adventure than in Ukraine. Found one.”
“Adventure, I assume?”
Timur nodded. “Some adventure, much boredom, a little money.”
“Sounds like a winning arrangement.”
Timur laughed quietly but didn’t say anything.
“What else…” Marcus hesitated, again struggling to find the words. “When you’re out of the Legion, what will you do?”
Timur thought for a moment, then shrugged again and watched his hand trail up and down Marcus’s forearm. “No family left. Some dead, some…” He bristled. “What is left of family, I do not belong.”
Marcus winced. “You don’t get along with them?”
“Those who still live?” Timur shook his head, his stubble brushing the pillow. “No. Rest are dead. And at the end of the Legion…” he paused, “…don’t know where I’ll go. Who I might be with.” He met Marcus’s eyes. “Can’t do this”—he gestured at Marcus, and then himself—“in Legion. Is dangerous.”
“But you and Julien…”
Timur smiled fondly. “Da. But no one knew. Was risk.” He held Marcus’s gaze, something in his green eyes seeming to intensify. “Don’t know future. Only five years left in Legion.”
“Sounds lonely.”
Another shrug, this one subtle, kind of sad. “Is Legion life.”
“And you still enjoy it?”
Timur seemed to consider the question for a long moment. “Is good life. Is my life.”
Whatever was out there—or wasn’t, since he seemed to be a lone wolf of sorts, even if it was by circumstance and not by choice—he appeared to be at peace with it. Not even resigned. His life was what it was, and in very little time, he would go back to that life. For five years. Maybe longer.
Marcus’s heart sank. “I won’t see you again, will I?”
Timur sighed. “There is leave. But…”
But.
Five years of being deployed to remote, dangerous places. Places where communication with the rest of the world was still shaky at best, and places where Timur would be too busy not getting killed to send a Facebook message.
“Christmas.” Timur said it like it answered everything. One word that somehow etched a future visit in stone, and made up for the months in between.
Marcus sighed. “Christmas.”
Timur kissed his forehead. “There is time. Tomorrow night. The future…” he shrugged, “…will work out. Is good.”
Marcus laughed softly. “Yeah. Is good. We’ll figure it out somehow.”
With that as settled as it was going to get tonight, they pulled the sheet up and shifted around to get comfortable and go to sleep. Marcus turned on his side, and Timur molded himself to him. They clasped their hands together against Marcus’s chest as Timur’s breath warmed the back of his neck.
Timur kissed beneath Marcus’s ear and whispered something. Marcus was pretty sure it was French. He couldn’t have repeated it to save his life, didn’t know what the exact words were, but somehow…he knew what it meant.
His throat tightened. He brought Timur’s fingers up to his lips and kissed them gently.
“I love you too, Timur.”
The smell of coffee brought Marcus back into the real world.
He squinted against the daylight and rubbed his eyes, cursing at Chris for not covering every window in this house with blackout curtains. What the hell kind of bartender was he, anyway?
As his eyes adjusted, Marcus rolled over. Timur was gone. Marcus had expected that—a single whiff of coffee could rouse Timur from a deep coma and pull him out of the room before first light—but he couldn’t help the disappointment sinking into his gut. He’d gotten used to seeing Timur next to him, sleeping soundly, and when they were in this bed, usually with his arm wrapped around a dozing cat.
But there was no cat and no Timur, and Marcus wasn’t about to stay in bed all day when it was Timur’s last day in town. He found a clean pair of jeans he’d left one of the other nights he and Timur had stayed here, and didn’t bother with a shirt.
When he walked into the kitchen, Julien and Timur were already there. Julien sat on the counter, cradling a cup of coffee be
tween his hands. Timur leaned against the dishwasher, sipping a cup of his own.
“Wow.” Julien made an animated gesture of looking at his watch. “A Wilde’s bartender awake before sunset.”
“Hey, fuck you. I’d have been up earlier, but you all kept me up past my bedtime.”
Julien chuckled. “And I didn’t hear you complaining, did I?” He winked. “Heard you doing a lot of things, but complaining wasn’t one of them.”
“No, definitely not. Just saying it’s your fault I slept so late.” He craned his neck toward the coffeepot. “Please tell me there’s some left.”
“Are you kidding?” Julien reached for the cabinet behind his head and pulled down a mug. “I know better than to have an empty coffeepot after Chris has worked a late shift. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Marcus poured himself a cup. Then he stood beside Timur, against the counter and, after he’d taken a life-giving sip, asked, “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Don’t know.” Julien turned to Timur, eyebrows up.
Timur shifted slightly, and for the first time, Marcus noticed a note of tension in the air. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, just that distinct sense that something was…off.
He glanced at Timur, but Timur was looking into his coffee cup. Then he shook himself and seemed to snap out of whatever had been occupying his mind. He swallowed some coffee, set the mug on the counter and wrapped his arm loosely around Marcus’s waist.
“I must pack today. Isn’t much.” He turned to Marcus. A hesitant but playful smile pulled at his lips. “Will you make bouillabaisse again?”
Marcus smiled back. “If that’s what you want, of course I will.”
“Well, that takes care of dinner,” Julien said. “We could always go downtown. Maybe wander around the waterfront.”
“Good idea.” Marcus sipped his coffee again. “If I’m going to cook a fish stew, I’d like to swing into Pike Place Market.” He glanced at Timur. “I want to make sure it’s perfect.”
