Tight Quarters

by Annabeth Albert

  They kept at it through lunch and into the afternoon, every action analyzed and questioned. Finally, right when Bacon was willing to put money on Bullets and Rooster going after the XO with fists, Bullets seeming particularly willing to blame the new XO for the clusterfuck, the LT stood.

  “All right. We don’t know yet how long they’re keeping us here, and whether they’ll want us to go back out—”

  “Hell yes.”

  “Finish the job.”

  “Hooyah.”

  The whole room seemed eager for that outcome, but the LT made a “simmer down” hand gesture. “I know we’re all on edge. But we’re not going anywhere until we can regroup. You’re all being granted twenty-four hours liberty. Exercise caution if you leave base, but use the time to recharge. See a movie. Sleep. If you call home, remember to observe usual operational protocols and to not mention the injuries—families are still in the process of being notified.”

  The senior chief followed this up with one of his patented “No stupid choices” lectures, but Bacon barely heard him, mind racing. He knew exactly how he wanted to use the time off, felt the pull toward Spencer like a magnetic grappling hook. All the reasons why he shouldn’t churned through his brain, but none were sufficient to rein in his overwhelming impulses. He needed Spencer, needed the escape he could offer, the connection. Needed to feel alive, and somehow, he knew deep in his bones that Spencer could make that happen.

  It didn’t matter what the senior chief said. He knew he was about to make a very stupid choice and not regret it one bit.

  Chapter Twelve

  Spencer didn’t like to think of himself as the type to hide away and lick his wounds—he’d kicked that habit in college, thank you very much. But in turning down the transport flight off the base, he’d definitely been...well, pouting was such an ugly word. But he hadn’t exactly been rational either. All he knew was that he hadn’t been remotely ready to be booted onto a transport flight without so much as a hot meal first after the LT had finished with his rapid-fire questioning about the ordeal.

  He’d been particularly insistent about the details when Bacon had shot the three armed men, and Spencer had tried to provide all the information his fuzzy brain could provide. And fuck, he hoped he wasn’t inadvertently throwing Bacon under a bus. Lying would get him nowhere, but he really didn’t want Bacon in trouble when the whole time he’d simply been focused on keeping him safe.

  Finally, the LT had finished, and feeling very much discarded, Spencer had taken himself off base, made flight arrangements, and found a hotel with good water pressure near a decent restaurant. He’d eaten red rice and kadon pika—local comfort food that warmed him through and made it easier to sleep an astonishing near twelve hours.

  After spending a long time taking notes about the mission—notes he knew well he might never be able to use but felt compelled to compile anyway—he’d spent the rest of the day in reporter mode, exploring the island and asking questions about the base and its operations. Even if his main story was about to be killed—he could see that writing on the wall even before he talked to Naval PR—he could still find something to work with. Coming back from his wandering, he took a hot shower, put pants on and was just about to contemplate a shirt and dinner when a knock sounded at his door.

  Because he wasn’t an idiot, Spencer had a pretty damn good idea who was there. He didn’t bother grabbing a shirt, and his blood pressure was already spiking as he looked through the peephole. Yup. Exactly as he’d thought.

  “What in the ever loving fuck are you doing here?” he demanded as he swung the door open to reveal Bacon slouched against the doorjamb. He was in fatigues, but he was far cleaner than he’d been last time Spencer had seen him.

  “Don’t stress. I’m not AWOL. They gave us liberty.” He looked more rested, but his good humor sounded forced.

  “You still shouldn’t be here,” Spencer said even as he moved to let Bacon into the room. He tried to rationalize his actions by adding, “I don’t want a public argument. You’re not staying.”

  “We both know I am.” Bacon crowded Spencer into the wall as soon as the door shut. “You said to come find you after you were done being embedded. Promised me some sheet-scorching action.”

  “I didn’t mean here. My reputation—”

  “Will survive.” Bacon let out a bitter laugh, whatever facade he’d been putting on crumbling until he sounded as gutted as he had on the boat back to base. “Not everyone’s so lucky. Some of my team might be dying.”

  “Fuck,” Spencer said softly but Bacon kept right on talking, words tumbling out.

  “And it’s weird because I really can’t stand some of the fuckers I work with, but I’ve also known them...what, nine years now? Long damn time. I know their wives. Know their tells at cards. I’ve been to their houses, eaten their food. Been at more weddings than I can count.”

  “I know—”

  “No, you don’t.” Bacon got right in his face. “This isn’t how things were supposed to go. What do I tell their families now? What if the worst happens? Do I tell them there was nothing I could do? Fuck.”

  “And you’re mad because you had to stick with me? This isn’t my fault. I’m sorry—”

  “Sorry. That’s what people always say, isn’t it? They’re always so sorry. But sorry doesn’t do a damn thing. Sorry doesn’t bring people back. Sorry doesn’t make anyone feel better except the person saying it.”

  “Fine. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry I took this assignment. I’m not sorry I wanted to write a story that needs telling. And I’m for damn sure not sorry that you’re not one of the wounded. If sticking to me kept you from being a casualty, I’m not going to pretend to be sorry about that. I know you wanted to be out there. I know you’re mad at me. Mad at the world, but damn it, you shouldn’t have come here, put this all on me.”

  “Came because I didn’t have anywhere else I’d rather be.” Bacon’s voice lowered, became more mournful. “And trust me, I’m every bit as pissed about that too. Fuck you for getting under my skin. Everything on base is too damn quiet right now. And I’m too...itchy. You make me itchy, Spencer, and I hate it.”

  “I’m—”

  “Don’t you dare say sorry.” Bacon’s mouth was millimeters from Spencer’s when he paused. Held. Gave him a chance to escape, but even though it was the height of stupidity, Spencer wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I hate it too,” he whispered, right against Bacon’s mouth a split second before Bacon claimed his mouth in a punishing kiss. Spencer was used to being the aggressor with kissing. It was just how he was wired—he’d always been the one to take the lead in bed. But Bacon left no space for him to take over. In fact, all he could do was cling to Bacon and hope they didn’t burn the damn hotel down with the force of their passion.

  It was like they’d been longing for this for years, not days, and like they were both longtime lovers reuniting and mortal enemies enraged at their attraction. Bacon kissed like he operated in the field—with deadly intent and utter precision as he systematically took Spencer apart, lick by lick, nip by nip, breath by breath. But really, who needed air with kisses like these? Bacon kept up the aggressive assault, body pushing him against the wall, mouth ensuring his compliance.

  Finally, Bacon proved himself mortal after all and pulled away to gasp for air. “Fuck.”

  “Still mad?” Why Spencer was goading him, he really couldn’t say, other than he wanted more of this wild, unleashed, more-than-a-little unhinged man.

  “Very.” Bacon bit at Spencer’s ear, which made him shiver like a teenager in a backseat for the first time. God, he was putty for this man, absolute wet clay for him to mold and use. “So damn pissed.”

  But he belied his words by sinking to his knees, as graceful as any dancer Spencer had worked with. He went straight for Spencer’s waistband.

  “Wait.” Spencer
had to regain a little control here, assert himself, not simply get caught up in the Bacon express train of lust and anger. “Still don’t know your name.”

  “Delbert Lawrence Bacon Junior.” Bacon’s breath was warm against Spencer’s bare stomach. “That enough of a formal introduction for you, Spencer Bryant? Gonna let me suck your cock now?”

  Stronger men than Spencer might have been able to say no, put Bacon and his insolent mouth in his place, but Spencer just huffed out a breath, head nodding even as he added, “I shouldn’t. This is insan—”

  Whatever complaint he’d been about to register died on a groan as Bacon shoved his pants down and took a firm grip of his cock.

  “Uh-huh. That’s right. Moan for me,” Bacon demanded, voice harsh right before his tongue painted a stripe down the shaft of Spencer’s cock. He didn’t waste much time or effort with teasing, though, going right for a deep, fast rhythm. Either he’d done this before or he was the fastest damn study on the planet because he was good.

  Spencer tried to take back over, burying his hands in Bacon’s soft hair, slow him down some, but Bacon wasn’t having any of that, growling and absolutely owning his cock, setting a pace guaranteed to get him off quickly. It was messy and damn-near violent the way Bacon went for it. He went deep enough to gag, but when Spencer would have pulled back, Bacon anchored his hips in place, urged him to fuck his face. Spencer wasn’t sure what demons he was chasing out of his head, but he wanted to give him what he was seeking, a tenderness tingeing all the need racing through Spencer. And he really, really wanted to slow down and enjoy this. This never-to-be-repeated mistake. This mind-bogglingly awesome mistake.

  Fuck. It was getting harder to keep thinking of it as mistake when it felt so damn amazing, when his balls were tightening, abs straining, quads burning as his release started to build. Bacon did this thing where he swallowed hard around his cock, cheeks hollowing. He looked some debauched angel, lips swollen, eyes shut, face flushed.

  “Come on. Wanna taste it,” Bacon pulled back long enough to urge, harsh, his bossy gaze meeting Spencer’s before his eyes fluttered shut and he resumed his all-out assault.

  “You want it? Want my come?” Spencer’s hand tightened in Bacon’s hair and he hummed his approval, sucking harder. “That’s it. Fuck, that’s it. Suck it.”

  Bacon’s thumbs dug into his ass, and it was his desperation, the sheer need rolling off him in waves that did it, catapulted Spencer into a knee-weakening, world-shaking orgasm. Even jamming his shoulders against the wall didn’t stop him from sinking to the floor, landing next to Bacon in an inelegant heap.

  Bacon hauled him close, dropping kisses down his face. Spencer met his mouth for a long, lingering kiss. He was indifferent to tasting himself on Bacon’s lips, but Bacon’s needy sounds and clutching hands made his blood hum. He reached for Bacon’s fly, eager to watch him come apart.

  “Better now?” He nipped at Bacon’s swollen lips.

  “Still pissed, but so turned-on I can’t think right now.”

  “Yeah? You want my hand?” He palmed Bacon through his heavy pants.

  Bacon—Spencer still couldn’t think of him as Delbert—released a shaky groan. “That’ll do for starters.”

  Spencer had a feeling what he was getting at. “I’m not opposed to you fucking me, but I hardly came prepared—was here for the mission, not screwing around.”

  “I did.” Bacon fished around in his pocket, came up with condoms and a small bottle of lube. “Stopped on my way over.”

  “You’re damn presumptuous.”

  “Nah. Prepared. Hopeful.” He grinned, and something soft in his expression melted Spencer’s reservations. Bacon stood, holding out a hand. As soon as they were standing, Bacon kissed him again, almost like he couldn’t bear to be more than ten seconds without kissing him. And that kind of attention was intoxicating, making Spencer’s fingers bold as he started in on removing Bacon’s clothes. Somehow in between kisses, they both ended up naked and tumbling onto the bed together.

  And damn, Bacon was a specimen—all pale skin and bold tattoos and rippling muscles. His chest wasn’t very fuzzy, but what hair was there was as auburn as his head, as was his trimmed patch of hair right above his straining cock. Not porn-star huge, but still long with an oval-shaped head that looked plenty wide enough to make Spencer’s ass clench. He didn’t bottom very often, but something about Bacon’s mood made him want it, made him want to see Bacon coming undone, taking whatever it was he needed so desperately from the fuck.

  Bacon loomed large over him, kissing him like the world was on a countdown timer. “You need more time? Because damn, I need you.”

  “I’m good.” All the kissing had Spencer’s cock making a valiant effort to get back in the game. He wasn’t sure whether he could get off a second time, but his body was definitely interested in what Bacon had to offer.

  “Wanna do it like this so I can keep kissing you. I could kiss you for days.” Moving like a man who knew what he wanted, Bacon reached for a pillow, shoved it under Spencer’s ass. Then he grabbed the lube and a condom.

  “I’ll do it.” Spencer held out his hand. Being manhandled by Bacon was kind of an unexpected thrill, but there were limits to the amount of control he was willing to cede. He lubed himself up, eying Bacon’s not-insubstantial cock, and worked two fingers in, stretching himself. For his part, Bacon’s eyes were locked on Spencer’s fingers, eyes going dark and hot and nostrils flaring.

  “Yeah? You like watching?” Spencer panted through the burn.

  “Fuck, yeah. Love it. Sometime I wanna watch you finger yourself until you come.”

  This might be a good time to remind Bacon that this was a strictly one-time kind of deal, but Spencer couldn’t bring himself to spoil the mood. “Mmm. I’d pay a lot to see the same from you. You like that?”

  “Uh-huh. Depends. Right now I wanna fuck you stupid, but later, sure, you can do me.”

  Oh, Spencer did like a confident guy who could easily switch, but he had to be careful, guard against the urge to make future plans. If all they could have was this moment, he was determined to live in it, not let it go.

  Withdrawing his fingers, he pulled his legs back, showed off the flexibility he’d honed for decades, loving how the movement made Bacon moan.

  “Fuck. Not sure I’ve ever wanted someone more.” Bacon visibly trembled, which was hot as fuck, knowing he was struggling for control. Lining himself up, he started pressing forward, a slow but steady stroke that lit Spencer up, made the stretch electric. Wanting more, Spencer wrapped his legs around Bacon’s lower back, pulled him in closer.

  Bacon responded with another low groan and a muttered curse before leaning in to kiss Spencer breathless. He started a slow, deep rhythm, far more controlled than Spencer had expected. He had unerring aim too, hitting Spencer’s already over-sensitive prostate on each stroke, making him gasp and moan. He was usually pretty vocal in bed, but this was different, a level of incoherence he’d seldom reached, where all he could do was pant through the overwhelming sensations.

  “Fuck.” A bead of sweat rolled down Bacon’s strained face. “You feel so damn good. God, I want to go hard. Pound you.”

  “Do it.” Spencer welcomed every last shattering of Bacon’s restraint. “Fuck me.”

  “Oh...” Bacon’s head tipped back and he bit his still-puffy lower lip. His strokes sped up and when he leaned in for another kiss, his finesse was gone. “Fuck, Spencer. Not gonna last.”

  He was slamming in hard now, and Spencer hoped his answering moans sounded like encouragement because it was as close to speech as he could manage. Bacon fucked with the same near-violence he kissed and sucked cock with, an almost animalistic intensity. He cursed softly with every thrust, and his muscles stood in stark relief as his whole body shuddered with tension. Shifting his weight, he wrapped a hand around Spencer’s dick, stroking in tandem with
his strokes.

  “Just. Go,” Spencer managed to urge. Watching Bacon come apart was almost better than climaxing himself.

  “Okay. Okay.” Bacon was near-whimpering now, thrusts faster and shallower. His mouth found Spencer’s for a sloppy kiss right before his body stiffened. He let out a series of shaky breaths that were close to sobs before he collapsed on Spencer. They lay like that for long moments, Spencer stroking his sweaty back, whispering reassuring nonsense until Bacon finally groaned and gently rolled away.

  “Fuck. You didn’t come.” He reached for Spencer’s cock, but Spencer batted him away.

  “Gotta give me more than a few minutes to recover from you sucking my brains out. Felt incredible, though. Like one long aftershock.”

  “Good.” Stretching out, Bacon kissed him slowly and leisurely. He sure did seem to love to kiss, and Spencer wasn’t going to discourage it. Not now, when every second was a precious reminder of how little time they had. And it didn’t matter how long they lingered—it wasn’t ever going to be enough. Spencer’s chest felt raw and open. His body would recover from the hard fuck, but he had a sinking feeling his heart might not survive this confounding man.

  * * *

  Bacon soaked up the post-fuck energy like dry dirt sucked down an August rain. Man, he’d needed that. And for some reason, he couldn’t seem to stop touching and kissing Spencer. He was always an affectionate lover, but never quite this cuddly. Even so, he wanted more, and he dropped drowsy kisses down Spencer’s spine. He’d rolled over at some point, and he raised his head, opening an eye.

  “So... Delbert. Seriously?” Spencer’s smirk was rather sleepy.