Why the Devil Stalks Death

by L. J. Hayward

  Then we were inside, the door was locked and it was my turn to shove Jack up against it. He landed with a slight ouf and a cute scramble to discard his slouch hat before I pressed him back into the hard surface. Our teeth clacked as we both lunged into the kiss, chuckles mingling and muffled as we tried to correct it, both going one way, then the other, bothersome noses in the way. Jack laughed and, hands on my head, titled me the way he wanted and we managed a long, deep kiss that weakened my knees and had my nerves sparking.

  When need for air and sanity made me pull back, Jack shifted his lips to my cheek, jaw, temple, that awful spot behind my ear that made me whimper and claw at him, wanting more, less, anything and everything.

  “Jack.” I hated sounding whiney but it made Jack growl against my skin, his fingers digging in harder. Wrenching away from his hypnotic mouth, I gave my own threatening rumble. “Bedroom, now.” I broke out of his hold and, grabbing the shoulder strap of his belt, hauled him off the door and towards the bedroom.

  “Yes, sir,” Jack snapped in his best parade ground voice. Then softer, “And now I have a uniform fetish.”

  “Don’t worry, Jack. It won’t last long.”

  “God, I hope not. Popping wood at an ANZAC Day ceremony would not be respectful.”

  Which reminded me. I stopped so fast, Jack bumped into me. Turning, I steadied him, then carefully removed his medals. I had visions of ripping him out of his uniform but that didn’t include damaging something so precious to him. Jack stopped breathing as I worked, his chest still under my fingers. Once they were free, he pulled in a deep breath and watched as I put them back into the velvet box he’d brought them back from the Office in. I set it in the middle of the sideboard.

  “So we don’t forget to return them to your work.” Our work, now, but I couldn’t quite say it so casually.

  Jack reached around me and opened a drawer. “I won’t be taking them back there. They live here now.” He set the box in the drawer and closed it firmly.

  Breath caught in my throat and heart skipping beats, I opened the drawer and carefully removed the box.

  “Don’t you want them here?” Jack’s tone was carefully neutral, his presence at my back going wary.

  “I do,” I whispered. “Very much, but I want them as secure as they can be.”

  Our lusty dash became a quick walk, Jack at my side, one hand on my lower back. In the back corner of the bedroom, I crouched and opened the hidden floor safe. Inside it were my Desert Eagles, Jack’s preferred H&K USP, a packet of my fake passports and IDs and nearly $100,000 in various currencies. I nestled the velvet box into a corner, closed the safe and stood.

  Jack kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”

  I caught him in a fierce, desperate hold. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  “Always,” he murmured. “Always.”

  Not that either of us had softened in the meantime, but the urgency of minutes ago was back and suddenly the handy straps of Jack’s belt weren’t so enticing as I struggled to get him undressed. He laughed and knocked my trembling hands aside to undo the buckles himself. I settled for buttons and zips, then down to my knees to unlace his shoes and wrestle them off. Above, Jack shucked belt, jacket and shirt in one move, then pushed his pants down, lifting one leg at time to let me haul off his shoes and step out of the last of his uniform.

  Which left him only in a pair of white, sinfully tight boxer briefs. The material almost glowed against his brown skin, and seemingly made it a deeper, richer shade. I couldn’t take my gaze off him, tall and lean and so beautiful as he stood over me, locks of black curls tumbling around his face as he looked down, the prominent bulge of his erection straining at the material of his underwear. Tenderly, he touched my upturned face, fingertips brushing hair back from my forehead, then drifting over my cheekbones, along my jaw, over my slightly parted lips.

  The world fell away. I’d never knelt for Jack before and my pulse kicked wildly. I wanted him, so badly, like this, but at the same time, I was in another room, in another time and my instinct was to push him away.

  Phantom pain shot through the scars on my back. Flashes of my first target putting me on my knees and opening my mouth . . . The cognac and Sugar hadn’t distracted me from the job. The touching and kissing hadn’t waivered my conviction to prove I could do this. But that loss—surrendering—of control made me forget why I was there, what I had to do. Every instinct they’d whipped into me warred with a natural drive to escape.

  “Ethan?”

  The word wrenched me out of the past, caught me and held me. It wasn’t my name, but I wanted it to be. Wanted to be the person Jack saw when he said the name.

  He cupped my cheek and I leaned into it, taking the comfort and support he offered.

  “Don’t.”

  That was all he said, but I saw so much more in his eyes, felt it in his hand. Don’t worry about it. Don’t be scared. Don’t let them win. Don’t do anything you don’t want to.

  Carefully, I lowered Jack’s briefs, freeing his hard cock and balls. He caught his breath as I curled my fingers around him and stroked gently. This was easy. I enjoyed giving Jack this pleasure, thrilled at the way he bit his lip and groaned. The hair on his thighs tickled my lips as I kissed and tasted him there. The scent of his body, a hint of soap, touch of sweat and rising aroma of arousal, incited a hunger that still startled me upon occasion. No one else had ever had that effect on me. Neither of the women I’d been with, and certainly none of the men. Which may have had more to do with the nature of the person and situation than anything else.

  Seduction had never been part of my plan in the desert. All I’d been after was a slight lowering of Jack’s guard, enough to let me work out if he was a traitor to the Meta-State or not. My response, physically and emotionally, to his touches and kisses had surprised me. Not even when bedding a target was part of my plan did I ever react so viscerally to a male—to anyone. But somehow Jack got past my shields and disinterest in sex. He’d made me feel alive and excited, and aroused just to be in his presence—before he’d even touched me seductively.

  Jack was different in so many ways. He always had been, always would be. So it wasn’t hard to move my mouth to his cock. I’d very much enjoyed fellating him previously, but I’d relied on my rules to keep me safe, even though I knew Jack wouldn’t hurt me. This time, though, I didn’t need them as much. Hopefully not at all. I let his heavy shaft rest on my tongue as I sucked, getting familiar with the width and length of him, gently pumping my fist along the rest of his cock. Jack’s hands clenched at his sides, twitching like he needed to do something else with them. He’d bit his lips together, eyes scrunched up in frustration. I loved that he was respecting my rules even though I hadn’t specified them this time.

  Not quite ready to give in completely, I popped my lips off the end of his cock and said, “You can talk, Jack.”

  He let out an explosive breath. “Oh fuck. Don’t stop, but do stop if you want. Jesus!”

  I chuckled and nuzzled into his groin. “I don’t want to stop. I’ll let you know if I don’t like anything you do, though.”

  “Good, good.” He looked like he wanted to touch me but still wasn’t sure about it.

  Not sure either, I took him in my mouth again and teased him with my tongue. His thigh trembled under my hand as I stroked it in time with the pumps of my other fist around his cock. I flicked that sensitive spot under his glans with my tongue and was rewarded with a wordless cry and rush of pre-cum.

  “Ethan, God, fuck, yes,” Jack gasped when I went back to simple sucking.

  After a moment, his hand found my head, soft and tentative. I pushed back into it, letting him know it was all right, as well as needing that familiar touch as a reassurance. He gave it to me, carding his fingers through my hair. I let go of his shaft and cupped his balls as I sank down further on him, closed my lips and sucked back hard. Jack jerked with the action, fingers clenching against my head and letting lose a string of nonsensical so
unds that nevertheless felt like the highest praise.

  This was me doing these things to Jack. Things that Jack had done to me so many times. I had wondered if everyone felt as wild and silly as I did when Jack sent me crazy with passion. I still wasn’t certain I was giving Jack everything he gave me, but I was desperately overjoyed to know I was at least giving some small measure back to him this way. And wanted to give him even more.

  Tentatively, I damped a finger with saliva and traced it around Jack’s entrance. The response was instantaneous. The cock on my tongue pulsed and the thigh under my hand twitch violently. Thrilled beyond reason, I kept it up until, without thought, my finger was inside him.

  “Christ.” Jack’s back arched sharply and his body simply drew me in ever further. “Shit, Ethan. I’m going to fall over if you keep that up.”

  I stopped everything and stood. Jack gathered me close and kissed me deeply, sweetly.

  “Bed?” I managed between kisses.

  “Hell yes. But first . . .” Swiftly but lovingly, Jack stripped me from my suit. When he got to my socks, he looked up questioningly.

  I was used to keeping them on now, but that shame had been revealed, so I nodded and he pulled them off. Jack guided me to the bed and lowered himself on top. Bodies aligned and touching, we kissed and I could have been entirely satisfied with that. I hadn’t felt anything lacking in our previous physical relationship, but now that we had this, I felt so much more. It was easy to understand Jack’s reasons now. The simple pleasure of sharing breath, of trusting someone else with your air and soul, was powerful in a way I’d never recognised before. A little more stimulation and I could come like this.

  Jack travelled down my body and returned the blow job enthusiastically. I was a writhing, gibbering mess within moments. I could definitely come like this.

  Except that Jack stopped and slithered his way back up to kiss again. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, lapping at the new flavour.

  Jack laughed. “Better than the coffee taste?”

  “Much.” I grabbed his head and kissed him again.

  “Ethan,” he murmured against my lips some time later.

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten.” I was rather looking forward to it, as I had a present I truly hoped he loved.

  Jack sat up, straddling my hips and ground his arse down on me. “Well, I was sort of hoping you would give me a present now.”

  Synapses short circuiting under the intoxicating sensations happening at groin level, I wondered for a moment how I would get the present delivered a day early. Then he moved my hand from his hip to his arse, pressing my fingers into his crack.

  “Oh.”

  Grinning, Jack leaned down and rubbed his nose over mine. “Oh indeed, old chap. What say you?”

  My cock was certainly eager but some reticence must have shown on my face. Jack put a soft kiss on my lips and said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I’d love it and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Certain.” Jack’s smile went wicked. “I’ll guide you through it.”

  My cheeks flamed, which was surprising because I was certain every drop of blood had departed for points south. “I meant, are you well enough?” The last thing I wanted to do was exacerbate the injury he’d suffered because of me.

  Jack slid off me and lay prone, head pillowed on his crossed arms. He smiled at me. “I’m fine. I want this so much. Don’t want to wait.”

  I rolled over and rubbed my cock against his hip, one leg sliding across the back of his thighs. Jack humped against the mattress and moaned. The action drew my eye to the white dressing over his wound. It was stark against his brown skin, a pointed reminder of how close I’d come to losing him.

  “Jack.” I traced my fingers around the edge of the bandage.

  “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

  Unable to agree, I distracted myself with his tattoo. I loved it. The black outline and silver shadings that created a simple but effective image of a Saint Thomas Cross. It was such an integral part of Jack, a voluntary scar he’d etched into his skin as a punishment, but one that had become a sign of survival. So like my own scars. Touching his tattoo, kissing his warm skin, soothed me. Wounds healed and the scars they left were testaments of life.

  My hand drifted down to his firm, rounded arse.

  It reminded me so much of that first time, in the cave. Except this time Jack was giving me dirty, sweet kisses, and our positions were reversed. It was me reaching for the lube and coating my fingers. It was me marvelling at how I pressed a finger into his willing body.

  I sat up and watched what I was doing. Up to my last knuckle and still Jack was trying for more. Was this what Jack felt when it was me on the receiving end? This amazing sensation of heat and tightness and, more intoxicating, trust. Jack was letting me into his body, wanting me inside. It was a powerful realisation.

  “Jack.” I was dizzy with desire.

  Hips shifting, Jack demanded, “Another.”

  I complied, quickly following it with a third finger. Amused by Jack’s increasingly desperate sounds, I slicked up my cock and prepared to sink into my lover.

  “Wait,” Jack gasped.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  He pushed up under me. “Get off.”

  Worried, I did so and Jack flipped over.

  He settled back down with a sigh, then hauled me back on top. “Much better. Need to be able to kiss you.”

  My flagging cock surged with refreshed lust and moments later, with Jack’s left calf resting on my shoulder and his right leg bent to keep pressure off his wound, I pressed into him.

  Jack may have made a sound, but I lost it in my own moan of exquisite pleasure. It was like nothing I had experienced before. It wasn’t just the firm heat bearing down on me, or the strength of the body pushing back against me. It was the lack of artifice between us. Jack knew me. Knew everything that mattered about me and to me. I had willingly removed the armour for Jack and in return, he didn’t blame me for stripping him of his. I’d never had this sort of openness with anyone, ever.

  “Jack,” I groaned out around all these revelations.

  He hooked a hand around the back of my neck and drew me down for a kiss. A kiss so wet and hungry I forgot everything else and pressed my body to Jack’s. I lost control of my actions, letting primal urges drive me. All I knew was a powerful need to be close to Jack, to feel this deep connection forever.

  Jack’s hands roamed everywhere, from my shoulders down to my arse, fingers digging in, pulling me closer. He traced my ribs and brushed over my nipples, cupped my cheeks and ran his fingers through my hair. The hard line of his cock was a delicious friction between us, smearing our bellies with pre-cum.

  Clamping his knees to my sides, Jack wound his legs around me. The shift let my cock plunge deeper and faster and made his spine arch. Jack threw his head back and I lunged for his throat, kissing and nipping, quickly becoming overwhelmed with all the sensations. It was easier when Jack was in charge, but this . . . this was glorious, too. Especially when, at the end of each thrust, Jack started making soft, breathless grunts, sounds that I had to taste, licking them off his lips. I moaned Jack’s name over and over because that was the only word I knew right then. It was enough to convey my every feeling though because Jack kissed me each time.

  Then it all became too much to comprehend. The world was a fuzzy blur, as if I was in one of my cars, driving so fast everything else just vanished. I balanced on a knife edge, the thinnest margin between control and chaos. One tiny misstep and I’d crash.

  “Jack. I can’t . . . it’s too much . . .” I buried my face in his chest. “I’m going to . . . ngh!” With my last measure of will, I held my orgasm back. I didn’t want this to end. Wanted to be here forever.

  Ever contrary, Jack said, “Do it.” His hands moved down my back and squeezed my arse, pulling me i
n harder. “Let go for me.”

  I toppled over and came in a frantic rush, hips totally out of control, pounding hard and deep. Jack held me tight throughout. Sounds echoed around me, maybe they came from Jack, maybe from me. I didn’t know, didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Jack caught me before I could fly completely apart.

  When awareness returned, I was cradled on Jack’s chest, familiar, cherished hands gentling down my spine and back again to brush through my sweat-tangled hair.

  All the movement was over, the sex complete, and yet I still felt wild and disordered. My limbs trembled and my heart was shaky. I wasn’t sure what was swirling through my mind, be it flying thoughts I couldn’t capture or just lingering fireworks. Normally, such chaos sent me into lockdown, a desperate fight to regain control, but right now, I was too wrung out to follow hard won instincts. Too mellow and startled and too much in love.

  “Ethan.”

  Something shifted inside me. Something different to the pound of blood or the way my body heat seemed concentrated in my chest, leaving my limbs weak and my head light. It almost felt like a definite clink, like a particularly stubborn lock suddenly giving way to the picks and tumbling open.

  Ethan.

  Jack had been calling me “Ethan” long enough I had come to feel comfortable hearing it from him. Ethan Blade was never meant to be used as a name. It had simply been how Two, Four and myself had picked up targets. A single “assassin” covering the three of us, to throw off those who compiled information for the John Smith List. I had used it openly on the Valadian job to inspire a reaction in my main target I could use—Valadian trying to control me. Which had hindered my task to get the second target to trust me. I’d managed it, though. To a certain extent.

  And here I was, with a target-turner-lover, my entire life shifted ninety degrees off course. No longer an assassin operating outside of the law, but a member of a legitimate, if secret, government agency—which still gave me serious pause when I thought about it. No longer alone but in a real relationship—much more acceptable than the previous fact but still rather startling.