He had to stay frozen in position for what seemed to be an endless time before anything happened but, after a while, an armored vehicle trundled into the road alongside the church. A few minutes later, heavily camouflaged men came into view. The group gathered briefly, then fanned out and began searching the area. Brock snapped away, mindful of his precarious position but still determined to get good shots. He had no idea what the soldiers below him were doing and he didn’t care. A couple of them were using equipment that resembled sophisticated metal detectors, so he made sure to get close-ups of the kit. He also zoomed in on faces where he could. When he was satisfied that he had enough shots, he ducked inside the tower room and waited for the noises below to cease.
Every few minutes, Brock took a peek out of the window. His muscles were beginning to ache in his crouched position, but he didn’t want to sit in three inches of bat shit. When the soldiers finally moved away, he climbed down the tower in slow, steady increments, breathing a sigh of relief as he hit solid ground. He stretched out his cramped muscles then ran back to the place he’d left his pack. As he changed his footwear again and stowed the camera, he heard the distant sound of men’s voices. Frantically, he looked around. There wasn’t much cover, just a drainage channel lined with barbed wire. There was no choice. He flung himself down into the narrow depression, clamping his mouth shut as razor-sharp barbs pierced his clothes and the tender flesh beneath.
“Who was it said they saw something?” A gruff voice sounded far too close.
“Private Jacobs, sir. Said he thought there was movement at the church tower window. He was too far away to say for sure, though.”
“Fine. Let’s take a gander. He does realize that there are about ten thousand fucking bats living in there?”
Heavy footsteps moved away. Brock risked rolling backward a fraction. Barbed wire had wrapped itself around his forearm and another section pierced his hip. He didn’t dare pull it free. He hardly dared breathe and it seemed like an age before the soldiers returned.
“I have bat shit on my boots, Private. Tell your colleague he’ll be cleaning them off when we get back to barracks. There’s no sign of anything happening here…”
Brock didn’t catch the tail end of the conversation as the soldiers moved away. He lay in his uncomfortable hiding place for twenty minutes until he was certain that they were gone. He extricated himself from the wire, wincing as the metal thorns ripped his skin. There was no time to check the damage. He had to move. The delay had cost him valuable time—he’d be lucky to get back to Kyle on schedule.
Brock’s muscles ached and he could feel the seep of blood down his arm as he ran. He prayed that the pictures he had taken were good enough. Thoughts of Kyle filled his mind. Brock could fight his attraction but he couldn’t deny it. He’d like to photograph Kyle’s handsome, scarred face. Take pictures of his hard, muscled body. He could imagine the subtle lighting and the angles. Black and white would work well. His cock jerked happily and Brock moaned. Now was absolutely not the time. To compound his misery, it started to rain, lightly at first but then more steadily, giving him a thorough soaking. He was muddy and exhausted by the time he reached the road opposite the abandoned service station. He crouched low before crossing and circling behind the dilapidated building.
The car was still there, dark and silent in the shadows. He edged toward the vehicle, hugging the wall, then pulled open the door and slid into the passenger seat. The instant the door clunked shut, the locks engaged. Brock slumped back in his seat, utterly drained.
“You got the pictures.” Kyle’s comment was a statement, not a question, and Brock didn’t answer.
“Turn toward me.”
Brock didn’t have the energy to resist as Kyle slipped a hood over his head.
“You have to be fucking kidding me? I got your pictures. I came back. I did everything you asked.”
“You did, and I’m impressed. However, you still can’t know where the safe house is and it will be light soon.”
“You’re paranoid,” Brock muttered stubbornly.
Kyle started the car. “I suggest you stop bitching and rest.” He reached into the back seat and grabbed a thick, fleecy travel blanket. “You’re wet and cold. You need to warm up.” He tucked the blanket around Brock’s body and turned the heater up to full.
* * * *
Despite his discomfort, Brock had slipped instantly into sleep, lulled by the heat and thrum of the car’s engine. When he awoke, dawn had arrived and, with it, a few shreds of light that seeped beneath the edge of the hood. He shifted and moaned as clammy clothing chafed his skin. He ached everywhere.
“Couple of minutes and we’ll be back,” Kyle stated. “You can take off the hood, there’s nothing around here to identify where we are.” He turned the car through a gate and onto a well-maintained track. Brock guessed they were heading for a farmhouse and he was proved right when they crested the brow of a hill and some buildings came into view. They looked old—the main house more a cottage than anything. There was a scattering of outbuildings as well and Kyle pulled the car up in front of what appeared to be a stable block.
Brock grabbed his pack, wriggled free of the blanket and levered himself out of the car. Kyle took his arm gently and pushed him toward the house, letting go only to use his keys and open the door. He immediately locked it behind them.
Brock dumped the pack and sagged against the door. “I’m too tired and sore to think, let alone climb those stairs.”
Kyle helped him off with his fleece, his fingers lingering on Brock’s skin a little too long.
“Fuck, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kyle pulled at Brock’s top until he lifted his arms and allowed Kyle to remove it, revealing the angry tears in his skin that ran from elbow to wrist.
“I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.”
“Do you have these anywhere else?” Kyle probed at the wounds delicately.
“Right leg. Had to lie on razor wire.”
“Jesus. Go and take a shower. I’ll be up in a minute with the first-aid kit.” Kyle stomped toward the kitchen, muttering under his breath.
Brock couldn’t be bothered to think anymore, it was too much effort. He dragged himself up the stairs and stripped the moment he entered the bathroom, dropping his clothing carelessly in a pile. He clambered into the shower and let the hot water wash away mud and blood in a gory stream. He summoned the energy to shampoo his hair and lather some gel over his tired limbs. When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his hips and sat on the edge of the bath, head in his hands. Kyle came in, carrying first-aid supplies. He put antiseptic, cotton wool pads and gauze next to the sink as Brock watched him nervously.
“Stand up.”
Brock stepped away from the bath. Kyle grabbed the towel and yanked it free, leaving Brock naked and exposed.
“What the hell!” Brock turned, frantically looking for a way out.
“Keep still.” Kyle snapped the order and something in Brock’s mind responded. He stilled, his face heating, and placed his hands protectively over his crotch.
“Hands at your sides. You don’t hide yourself from me.”
“I… No, I’m not doing this,” Brock stammered even as his hands seemed to move of their own accord.
“You’ll do as I say. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Deep down, you want me to tell you what to do. Being obedient makes you feel good.”
“No…” Brock tried to deny it but his hardening cock betrayed him. Kyle’s touch was torment as he treated the dozens of small cuts on Brock’s arm and leg.
With the first aid complete, Kyle took a step back. “You’re exhausted and injured. You need to rest.”
Kyle didn’t make eye contact and when Brock retrieved the discarded towel and wrapped it around his hips, Kyle made no move to stop him.
Brock pushed past Kyle and headed for the bedroom. He yanked the curtains closed to shut out the early morning light, dropped the towel and slipped into be
d.
Kyle paused inside the bedroom door then stripped off his own clothes. Brock watched him with tired exasperation. He couldn’t stop himself admiring Kyle’s body and that made him feel even more frustrated. When Kyle joined him in bed, Brock edged over as far as he could, leaving a gap between them, and turned away.
“I had to test you,” Kyle murmured. “What I need you to do, the real mission, is too important to leave to chance. I had to know that you could handle pressure and difficult conditions. I’m sorry you got hurt.”
Brock’s head was swimming. Everything seemed fuzzy and indistinct. He longed to be comforted and held tight. Kyle must have sensed his need because he pressed hard against Brock’s back and pulled him in to an inescapable embrace.
Brock shivered as Kyle stroked his hair away from his face.
“I could hold you like this forever, Lysander. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go,” Kyle whispered.
As Brock drifted into sleep, he wondered if Kyle was talking about when the mission ended—or something else. Something he no longer wanted to resist.
Chapter Four
For Brock, the following day passed in a daze. His injuries were sore, but superficial. He napped, ate, read and took another long bath, which gave him a lot of time to think. Kyle checked on him every now and again but spent his time poring over maps and documents. More and more, Brock found himself watching Kyle’s every move, wondering what it would be like to be with him unrestrained by his fears. As darkness fell, he made a decision.
“Kyle?”
“Yes, Lysander.”
“I think I might go and lie down.”
“Are you still tired?” Kyle sounded concerned.
Brock nibbled on his lower lip. He gave Kyle a coy glance from beneath his lashes. “No. Not tired at all.”
Kyle stared at him, eyes sparking with desire. He stood, his lips curving into a predatory smile. Brock took a step backward.
“I should escort you upstairs.”
“You should?”
“I don’t think you should get over-excited without me there to keep an eye on you.”
“You just want to watch?” Brock chuckled.
“You little…”
Brock ran for the stairs, Kyle on his heels. Kyle tackled him to the bed then wasted no time in stripping him bare. Brock sprawled on the bed, panting. He was hard, his cock clearly signaling his willingness to play. Kyle stripped, taking a lot more time over it than he had with Brock. Brock eyed his impressive erection. He licked his lips.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re in control, Lysander.” Kyle grabbed two spare pillows. “Lift your ass.” He shoved them beneath Brock’s hips, lifting his backside off the mattress. “Now, spread your legs.”
Brock’s breath hitched. He bent his knees then spread his thighs, exposing himself to Kyle’s scrutiny. He watched as Kyle slicked two fingers with a coating of lube. His ass clenched in anticipation. Kyle climbed onto the bed next to him.
“You have no idea what you’ve started, do you, Lysander?” Kyle rubbed a slick fingertip over Brock’s exposed hole. Without warning, he plunged two fingers into Brock’s channel, then stilled. Brock took a few frantic breaths, relishing the burn. He bucked his hips, trying to achieve deeper penetration, but Kyle gave his aching dick a smack.
“Be still, or I’ll find a nice, heavy cock ring and you won’t get to come for hours.”
Brock whimpered, but Kyle’s words just made him harder.
Kyle’s sense of satisfaction deepened when Brock stopped trying to take charge. “That’s it, beautiful. Behave yourself.”
Brock scowled. “You have two fingers in my ass. Are you going to do something with them or do you have a sudden case of digit paralysis? And call me Brock, for fuck’s sake!”
Kyle gave an exaggerated sigh. “Still so rebellious. Do you have somewhere else to be?” Kyle pressed the bundle of nerves inside his lover’s body that let him exert control with just a touch.
“I… Oh!” Brock made a sweet little squeaking sound.
“You have a lot to learn,” he said. “This seems to be an opportune moment for your first lesson.” Kyle stroked the silky inner walls of Brock’s channel, stretching him fractionally.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Brock squirmed. “Are you trying to make me hate you?”
“Stop trying to take more than I’m prepared to give you. Be still.” Kyle put just enough force into his voice to alter his words from suggestion to command. Brock stopped moving instantly.
So beautifully receptive. Ripe to be taught and molded. He has the potential to be the perfect submissive. Kyle continued to move his fingers, enjoying Brock’s inner heat and his quiet, needy whimpers. “That’s much better. It’s good to see that you’re not untrainable.”
Kyle ignored Brock’s snort of indignation and took the opportunity to give him a thorough examination. Brock’s slender form was stretched down the center of the bed while Kyle lay, propped on one elbow, next to him. The pillows beneath Brock’s hips tilted his pelvis, allowing Kyle easy access to his ass. Brock’s dick pointed toward the ceiling, lewdly displayed by his position. His legs, dusted with a fine covering of golden hair, were spread wide, his knees slightly bent.
He has the legs of a climber. Kyle admired the lean muscle that plumped Brock’s calves and thighs. Strength was apparent in every gentle swell and curve. His feet and ankles were slender, almost delicate, and a virtually imperceptible twitch pulsed in the smooth arch of his instep, betraying his arousal. Kyle grinned and scissored his fingers. Brock’s toes curled and his hips lifted a fraction.
“Please…”
“All in good time. Begging won’t do you any good. You need to learn patience.” Kyle shifted his gaze to Brock’s rigid shaft. The head gleamed with pre-cum, the tiny slit glinting with promise. Kyle dipped his head and took a taste. Just one flick of his tongue and Brock’s salt-sweet flavor exploded across his taste buds. He hummed his pleasure. “You taste delicious.”
Brock’s eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth digging into his swollen lower lip.
“Open your eyes. Look at me,” Kyle ordered. “Now tell me why you’ve changed your mind about me.”
Glints of blue appeared beneath a shield of golden lashes.
“Now? You want to talk now?”
Content that Brock was paying appropriate attention, Kyle went back to admiring his prize. A pair of smooth, plump balls tempted Kyle to squeeze them but he resisted. There was plenty of time to play. The hairless sac looked flushed with heat, the skin stretched taut. He liked the bare skin. The hair at Brock’s groin was cropped short but eventually it would have to go. Kyle’s fingers twitched as he imagined taking a razor to the golden strands. He’d slipped into a daydream and forgotten momentarily where his fingers were. Brock moaned and bucked. Kyle shook himself out of his mental meandering and chuckled.
“I’m curious. You’ve been fighting your attraction since we met, you said you’d share a bed if you had to but that was it. Now here we are and you were the one that instigated naked playtime, not me.”
“Oh God! Fine. I decided that life’s too short. If you dump me when this is all over, then so be it, but in the meantime I don’t want to spend every moment frustrated and wondering how things could be between us.”
“Well, I for one am glad you’ve seen the light. Finally. Time for three, I think.” He withdrew his fingers and applied a fresh coating of lube. Brock’s body sucked him in greedily as he pressed three fingers forward. “So needy. So hot and tight.” Brock’s abs rippled as he drew in a deep breath. Kyle leaned down and licked a damp trail from Brock’s belly button all the way to one peaked nipple. He bit down firmly.
“Fuck! Kyle… You can’t… I’m going to come!”
Kyle bathed the imprints left by his teeth with his tongue, soothing the redness. “Not until I say you can.” He withdrew his fingers from Brock’s grasping channel and gloved his cock, adding more slic
k. He knelt between the V of Brock’s legs and hoisted one of them onto his shoulder, twisting Brock’s body slightly to the side. His penetration was swift and assured. He thrust deep, then paused. Brock looked almost feverish. His eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed pink. His tousled blond hair spread across the sheet in a wild tangle of strands. The tip of his tongue peeked from between parted lips.
“Hard! Want it rough…” Brock cried out.
Kyle didn’t have a problem with that request. He put all his focus into the snap of his hips. Brock’s position allowed Kyle to drive deep, pegging his lover’s gland with every thrust. Brock gasped and clawed at the sheets. Calling on every ounce of willpower he possessed, Kyle held back his own release as long as he could but the pressure as Brock’s inner muscles squeezed his cock soon became too much to bear. The fiery burn of orgasm flooded his body and he came with a triumphant yell.
“Please, please, please…”
Brock’s desperate begging brought Kyle back to reality. He grasped Brock’s slender dick and gave it a couple of rough, clumsy jerks. The lack of finesse didn’t matter. Brock shot into his hand with an anguished moan.
Kyle’s arms shook as he held his weight away from Brock and took a few panting deep breaths. Carefully he withdrew from Brock’s body and lowered his lover’s leg to the bed. He rolled to one side and collapsed.
Testing Lysander Page 5
