Capture & Surrender (Market Garden, #5)(65)

“We should get—” He met Brandon’s eyes.

Oh, holy f*ck.

No amount of caffeine in the world could rival the second wind he felt just by looking into those beautiful, smouldering eyes. The grin that followed made Frank shiver, and as Brandon used that single point of contact to draw them back together, Frank saw both Brandon and Stefan. And he wanted both of them. Right now.

Eyes gleaming, Brandon ran a hand up Frank’s arm. “So when you said you were tired, how tired did you mean?”

Frank let himself be reeled in closer. “Tired enough to go to bed.”

“Go to bed and sleep?” One eyebrow arched playfully, making Frank’s heart beat faster even as his mind settled, knowing they were moving back to familiar, comfortable ground. “Or just . . . go to bed?”

Frank cupped Brandon’s face in both hands. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re not nearly as old as you claim. Or nearly as tired.” Brandon’s grip remained firm, a demand Frank couldn’t resist and didn’t want to fight against. “But I think you’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”

Frank grinned. “And you’re thinking too much.” He freed his hand to pull his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the chair in the corner. He kicked down the heels of his trainers and stepped out of them. Brandon watched him as he popped the buttons of his jeans and pulled them down, stepped out of them, too, and lost the boxers in the same general movement. “There, fixed.”

Brandon stepped closer and kissed him. His naked skin rubbing against Brandon’s clothes reminded Frank of how Brandon could keep him focused and centred on nothing but pleasure and anchored in his own body. Teach him to accept and remain passive, and that did wonders for his sanity, more than therapy ever had. It made him feel alive, too, loved and desired. Like someone who was worth chasing down in the middle of the night.

Brandon held that tension, that possibility between them for what felt like a minute or an hour, then smiled at him. He slipped out of his jacket and dropped it on the chair on top of Frank’s clothes. “How do you want it?”

Frank cleared his throat. “Don’t care as long as it’s pretty soon.” But then he remembered the rest of the day and that Stefan had had clients, and shrugged. “I’ll take what you can give me.”

Brandon smiled. “Get on the bed. I’ll get undressed.”

Frank pulled the duvet back and lay down, one hand behind his head, then he leaned over to dig in the nightstand for condoms and lube, positioning them strategically to his side. Brandon stripped, taking more time than Frank would have expected, but it gave him a moment to appreciate him—he would see him like this more often now, watch him move, the play of muscles and tendons, the planes and curves and patterns that never failed to awe him. Amazing that the basic design was the same, and still everybody looked different in some small way.

Brandon joined him on the bed, covering Frank’s body with his own, and the skin-on-skin contact was even better than that embrace in the kitchen, or maybe just good in a different way. From soul-wrenching truth to quietly joyful arousal in what, five, ten minutes?

Frank trailed his fingers along Brandon’s jaw. “Never too tired for this.” He kissed Brandon, admiring his coordination for getting a condom on without breaking the kiss. Professional skills came in handy.

Brandon did break away to get the bottle of lube off the bedside table. “Stay like that.” He poured lube onto his hand. “Love having you on your back.” He moistened his lips. “So I can see you.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll hear you doing something.” Brandon winked as he set the bottle aside again. “But it won’t be complaining.”

Frank laughed. “Cocky bastard.”

“Damn right.” Brandon tapped the inside of Frank’s knee, and Frank obediently spread his legs for him. Half an hour ago, Frank had been aching from Brandon’s absence, and now he ached for him in an entirely different way.

Brandon pressed in gently, screwing his eyes shut and groaning as he breached Frank. He worked himself deeper, toeing the line of going too fast, but at this point, Frank didn’t give a f*ck if Brandon crossed it. He liked pain, and pain like this meant they were both alive and here and together, and tonight, that was everything Frank wanted.

“Holy shit.” Brandon pushed all the way into Frank. He opened his eyes. God, he looked spectacular when he was turned on. His pupils were huge, his skin already lightly flushed. It was impossible to tell if the wetness in his eyes was left over from earlier, or if it was the same kind of sensory and emotional overload that was blurring Frank’s vision.

Frank pulled in a breath and was going to suggest that Brandon come down to him, but Brandon beat him to it and lowered himself enough to brush their lips together. Frank wrapped his arms around him, and Brandon slid his hands under Frank’s shoulders. His range of motion was limited like this, but what he lost in his thrusts, he made up for in spades with his kiss.

Frank rocked his hips with Brandon’s, shivering when a low groan vibrated across his lips. Brandon tried to pick up speed, but after a few short, sharp thrusts, gave up and gave in to Frank’s silent demand for a deeper, longer kiss.

Eventually, though, Brandon broke that kiss, and he was out of breath as he touched their foreheads together and managed this time to thrust harder. “You really thought—” He sucked in a breath. Kissed Frank again. “You really thought I’d live without this?”