Syler roused himself briefly when they pulled into the basement garage of Arthur’s three story townhouse. Well, roused himself in so much as he clung onto Arthur and let himself be lugged indoors, murmuring nonsense into his shoulder about intervention planning. The blond smiled indulgently, trundling him upstairs to the bedroom where the other man immediately buried himself into the duvet. Chuckling, Arthur went to work pulling him out of his clothes and setting aside his glasses on the nightstand, tucking him in when he finished. A quick shower later and he was joining him in bed, pressing up against his back and drawing him in tight to his chest, nodding off in record time to the soft snuffles of his beloved engineer.
Thirty-Five
Syler groaned his way back into wakefulness sometime late the next morning—or possibly two mornings later, if the absolute full body ache was anything to go off of. Christ he hurt. What the fuck did he even do? Snuffling, he hauled the blankets up tighter over himself and curled into a ball, heart set on going back to sleep and dealing with everything later.
It was right about then he realized he wasn’t in his own bed.
“What the shit?” He sat up with an alarmed grumbling, raking a hand through his hair, wincing at the protest from both shoulders and then his whole body as the moment reinvigorated every abuse he ladled on himself yesterday. “Right. That happened.”
He dropped back into the mattress with a dull thud, head turning slowly as he scanned the room. The clock on the bedside table read shortly after 11 a.m. if he tilted his head and squinted enough. He caught sight of the glare reflecting off of the metal frame of his glasses. He reached for them with a grunt, slamming them on his face in hopes that seeing clearly would improve his mental acuity as well.
The room took up most of the top floor, if the windows on both the east and west walls were any indicator. A half cracked door along the north side led to a bathroom, while the only closed door was the one leading out of the room itself. He faintly recalled being hauled up three flights of stairs in his fugue state the night prior. Ah, right. Arthur’s townhouse. Funny, he thought, that he’d never actually been inside of it in all the nights he’d driven the other man home.
And it was undeniably Arthur’s, all modern sophistication and clean white walls and sharp lines. A pair of obnoxiously well organized built in bookshelves on the west wall bracketed a fully functioning brick fireplace, neatly framed by windows with heavy blue drapes. The fireplace had a set of tufted chairs and dark wood table in front of it that made the place look like a staged home décor catalog. Even the laundry bin looked posh, all wicker white shell and ivory linen lining that contrasted nicely with the matching dark wood of the mantle, floor, and bed frame.
The bed itself was nestled against the eastern wall between its set of windows, Arthur’s side already neatly made up. The drapes were still tightly shut, however. Were it not for the light coming from the bathroom, he’d be in total darkness. Thoughtful of the man, really. Syler wasn’t particularly well suited to the morning sun. Actually, Syler conceded, given his penchant for making a mess, he wasn’t particularly well suited for a place like this at all, objectively gorgeous though it was.
He hauled himself out of the bed, feet digging into the fluffy white rug beneath the bed, and headed for the bath that already looked just as ridiculous as the bedroom. Now that he was awake enough to smell himself properly, his own odor was beginning to offend him. He found a spare toothbrush and change of clothes waiting for him on the counter. God, but the man was sweet.
---
“You,” Syler announced upon entering the ground floor kitchen, “are incredibly domestic.” Arthur turned from his place at the stove to pass him a cup of coffee. Syler hummed contentedly as he swallowed half of it down in a single go, leaning against the counter across from the other man as he inhaled it.
“Pretty sure I warned you about that already,” he teased. “Clothes fit alright?”
Syler broke away from his mug long enough to nod. “Mm, your collection of too small shirts is dual purpose as it turns out. What is that fantastic smell?”
“Breakfast. Brunch? Food for engineer’s who manage to get up before noon,” he settled on, finger chasing back a damp curl tumbling over Syler’s forehead before leaning in to kiss him, slow and thorough. “Sit down and I’ll plate it up for us.”
A few minutes later, Syler blinked down at an oversized plate stacked with what could only be described as an American breakfast buffet, befuddled. “Did you make all of this?”
“Doesn’t take that long, sweetheart,” Arthur replied, setting out an honest to god caddy of jam and syrup and butter and god only knew what else before tucking into his own plate of pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast, potatoes—lord, he hadn’t discriminated against any varieties of breakfast foods whatsoever. “I’m from a farm in rural Iowa. Feeding people is genetic. Now eat up.”
Syler hurriedly stuffed a bite of egg on toast into his mouth lest he offend his host, groaning when his body chose that moment to inform him that he hadn’t eaten since the prior afternoon. “Oh, that’s fucking good.”
“Don’t tell me your other boy toys never fed you.”
“Oh, are we talking about that now?” Syler shoved another bite of toast in his mouth, chasing it with a piece of bacon, and gestured with his free hand to indicate that Arthur could have at whenever he was ready.
“As good a time as any,” Arthur replied. “So, Marcus never fed you then?”
“Marcus,” Syler snorted gracelessly, “was an egotistical jackass who didn’t think I was worth sticking around for on the best of days, let alone the effort of cooking breakfast. Something of a running theme for me, actually.”
“Their loss.” The gleam in his eyes suggested he really, really didn’t think so. “They did set the bar low enough for me to impress you with minimal effort, so I suppose I should thank them for that.”
“You already tended to the blowing up of a convention center most of them were at, Arthur. I think they’re sufficiently terrified of you by now and totally content to never see or hear of your existence again.”
Arthur hummed, allowing the conversation to lapse while they cleared their respective plates. Once his cutlery was down, however, all bets were off. “I’m serious about you. You get that, right?”
Syler blinked at him balefully over the rim of his coffee mug. “Yes, Arthur, you’ve said. I know. I agreed.” He gestured at himself impassively. “This is me. This is who you get. A sarcastic mess who’s going to leave hand prints and coffee rings on all of your expensive tables and stumble blindly through every attempt at heart-felt conversation.”
“Good.” He stood, pressing a kiss to his temple before he started collecting the dishes. “That’s what I want.”
The younger man felt a flush travel up the back of his neck, pleased. “So, so, so domestic,” he couldn’t help but tease. “You’re going to be cleaning up after me for the rest of your life.”
“If I’m very lucky,” Arthur shot back with a grin. Syler smiled, shy but undeniably thrilled.
Thirty-Six
They settled on the couch—a couch that matched the one in his office suspiciously well, by the way—in the adjoining living room, Arthur content to resume his rightful place with his head in his handler’s lap. Syler carded a hand absentmindedly through his hair as he put together the after action report for the D.C. debacle and went over the list of damaged equipment he needed to replace in both the operations department and his apartment.
“I think that damned AI fried half of my server banks in the lock out,” he grumbled a few hours later, thumbing his screen irritably. Arthur nuzzled against his hip consolingly, flicking through his own tablet as he finalized his much briefer report. Lucky bastard had less paperwork when he wasn’t the one who had to explain exactly what the hell they’d gone up against to the big wigs. “I’m debating how much I can leave out or dumb down without them noticing.”
“What are we leaving out, exactly?
”
“Everything that might lead them to trying to make a Pyrona of their own.”
Arthur suppressed a wince at the thought. “So most of it then.”
“There’s a distinct possibility that two versions of this report are going to exist and only one of them will be external.”
“I think,” Arthur drawled, dragging his tablet away and setting his own aside, “that you should take a break.”
“Mm, just let me finish this and then we can enjoy our paid punishment however you like.” Arthur grinned wickedly. Syler felt an immediate pang of regret, followed by a spike of arousal. His agent tended to come up with ideas in two camps—incredibly enjoyable or utterly terrifying. “Arthur...” he warned.
The other man was already up. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Arthur—” And he was already gone, disappeared around the corner leading to the stairs. Syler considered following to see what trouble he was getting up to, but ultimately decided against it. It was someone else’s turn to watch the man.
He immersed himself back into the reports, alternating between tablet and laptop as he slowly cobbled together some version of a believable story based loosely on the final copy he was transmitting to Boothman. He was just giving it a final read through when a pair of hands settled on his neck and started massaging lightly into the knots at the base. He lolled his head back, dropping the tablet on the couch and gracing his agent with an indulgent expression. Then his eyebrows shot up.
“Where is your shirt and why is your hair wet?”
“Come upstairs,” he crooned, tugging Syler up from the couch. He was down to just a pair of slim joggers. Huh, odds were swinging towards the incredibly enjoyable camp then. Syler stood and moved around the couch, reaching a hand out to stroke down his exposed ribs and capture a well muscled hip before darting closer to kiss him.
Arthur grinned. “Upstairs. With a bed.”
Syler wasn’t going to argue with that logic. He followed behind gamely, cock taking a pronounced interest in the proceedings at the view he was graced with as they made their way up the stairs. Now that the other man was his, it felt only fair to take a certain level of pride in his own catch. And lord, what a catch.
He pressed up against Arthur when they got to the third floor landing, hands trailing over and around his toned stomach, mouthing at his neck. “Have I told you how incredibly attractive you are before?”
“Not in that tone of voice, so please feel free to keep going.” He deftly pulled them through the doorway, turning to capture Syler’s mouth as he worked a hand under his borrowed shirt. Syler shamelessly dropped his hands down to cup the other man’s ass. “I’m fond of this too.”
“Good,” he replied, tugging down his joggers and dropping back against the bed, sprawled out in an entirely pornographic display. “It’s yours tonight.”
Syler shucked his own sweats, cock now firmly invested in the proceedings. He licked his lips, pupils blown and eyes gone very dark, climbing onto the bed with as much grace as he could muster before dipping his head down to draw the blond up for a thoroughly filthy kiss.
Arthur hooked his arms around him, drawing him down against his chest, hands roaming freely down to grip his ass and back up to tug at his hair. “Come on sweetheart. Equipment is on the bedside table. Now show me a good time.”
“Oh,” he pressed a bite to the underside of Arthur’s jaw, “I fully intend to.”
He set to work mapping out every glorious inch of the other man, hands taking a particular interest in the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders, mouth tracing a path across his chest. He breathed out over a nipple, intent on sucking them both in due time. Arthur arched up against him when his mouth finally closed around the first.
“Sensitive,” he noted, tone faux clinical as his hand drifted across the planes of the blond’s stomach to settle temptingly on his upper thigh. He continued his slow path down the other man’s stomach, working diligently down to the space just above his cock, relishing in every noise and muttered curse the man lobbed his way, before sitting up, right hand pressed firm to the other man’s sternum as he admired his handiwork.
“Syler,” his handsome menace threatened, “if you don’t get back down there, I might kill you.”
“It’s not my fault you teased yourself before we started.” The younger man gave him a wicked grin, reaching for the lube on the table. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“You were meant to.” He was tugged unceremoniously back down, the older man’s mouth as intent as the hands that pressed their hips into perfect alignment. He ground up against Syler, one hand darting back up to tangle in his hair and tug him closer, rutting up into him shamelessly. He broke off with a pant. “Now stop wasting all of my hard work and fuck me.”
“Mm,” he replied, pulling back enough to uncap the bottle. “Say please.” He slicked up his fingers temptingly, long and clever and decidedly not hard at work in Arthur’s ass.
“Please, you bossy little shit!” Arthur shoved him down. “Or I’ll do it myself and you won’t be invited!”
Syler grinned, kneeling between Arthur’s thighs and hooking his leg over his left shoulder to get a better angle, hand squeezing his knee where it rested over his shoulder. “There’s the spirit.” He pressed a finger teasingly against Arthur’s rim, already beautifully loosened from his shower earlier, slipping in without much resistance. Arthur ground down on it with a curse, groaning lowly. “Fucking fuck me, Syler.”
The engineer graced him with an intensely aroused look, already testing to see just how thoroughly the blond had prepared for him. Well enough, he wagered, that he could afford to repay the favor of the rim job he’d been given two nights prior with an enthusiastic round of fingering more geared to pleasure than practicality. He dropped his free hand from it’s place on Arthur’s knee, hooking it around the man’s hip and pressing it flush against his stomach before adding a second finger, delighting in the way his agent thrust upwards, cock bobbing. “I hear that patience is a virtue.”
“You’re a fucking tease,” he panted. Syler dropped a kiss to his inner thigh, scissoring in deeper, humming his agreement before he set to work in earnest, working his agent open with a single minded intensity and relish for every sound that escaped his mouth. They had the time, after all.
“Syler.” Ah, there was the tone of voice that he was looking for. Desperately needy, perfectly on edge, eager for a good fuck before he blew. His agent’s tip was absolutely weeping. Syler rolled on a condom and pressed the other man’s legs wide, settling into the space between and guiding his cock up to his entrance with one hand as he braced over top of him with the other.
“Look at me,” he ordered. Hazy blue eyes met his as the other man wrapped his legs tightly around his waist, bent in half and absolutely breathtaking. “Breath.” Syler pressed in slowly, groaning in time with the other man until he was balls deep in him. He dropped to his forearms, pressing a sloppy kiss to his agent’s mouth. Lord above, he didn’t know if he had the patience to last long.
Arthur wrapped his arms around his shoulders and arched up. “Move, darling.” Syler pulled back with a stilted moan, setting a slow pace that he had no hopes of maintaining for long. Arthur seemed uninterested in being patient for much longer himself. His hands moved to grip his ass, urging the other man to— “Put your fucking back into it, damnit.”
Let it not be said that Syler couldn’t take instructions well when they served to benefit him.
He snapped his hips into the other man with a grunt, pushing him deeper into the mattress at an absolutely brutal pace. Arthur groaned, short nails scrabbling for purchase along his back, hips bucking up to meet him with every thrust, legs wrapped around his waist like a vice grip. Syler pressed his mouth to the other man’s neck, working sloppy kisses up to the underside of his throat as he pounded into him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The blond canted up on a particularly deep thrust. Syler, ever the scientist, str
ove diligently to repeat the angle to see if the pattern held. Arthur whined, the noise doing spectacular things for the pressure in his balls. Syler wrapped a hand around the base of the other man’s shaft, tugging in time with the pace of his hips, eyes intent on the blond’s flushed face as he finally tipped over the edge, cock erupting in thick spurts. He buried his face in his lover’s neck, letting himself go with a groan, buried deep and panting through his own orgasm.
“God,” he whispered hoarsely, “you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, Arthur.”
He nuzzled against the engineer’s dark hair, breath displacing a sweaty curl. “Mm, you should look in a mirror sometime, love.”
Syler smiled contentedly, pressing a kiss to the side of Arthur’s neck before drawing himself up to clean them both up. “Have the energy for a shower or is it a lost cause?”
“Moving isn’t even a remote possibility,” he murmured, grumpy over the absence of the other warm body in his bed. Syler dropped another kiss to his mouth, heading to the bath in search of a towel. A well fucked Arthur was apparently a useless Arthur, not that he could blame the man. He’d hardly been a fully functioning adult himself the last few nights. He dropped the towel in the laundry basket once he was done cleaning them up, mindful of the other man’s pointed look when he’d made to toss it on the floor.
“You’re so obnoxiously particular,” he teased, pulling back the sheets and encouraging the other man under them. He laid down facing him, grinning.
“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, already half asleep as he reached for his handler. He tucked himself in close, dragging the younger man’s arm across his waist, snuffling into the space beneath his jaw. If someone had asked Syler six months ago whether or not he thought his most difficult agent was a cuddler, he’d have laughed in their face. He stroked a hand down the older man’s back, content.
“Good night, Arthur.”
“Mm, night love.”
Syler pressed a fond kiss to his temple. It was entirely too soon to give voice to that feeling himself, but Arthur never did do anything by halves, always rushing in boldly and without fear. As he drifted off, he vowed to do everything in his power to remain deserving of the sentiment.
Covert Affairs: Partnership : A Covert Affairs Romance (Book One) Page 19
