Chapter 12
Sawyer
Declan hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of Sawyer’s compression
pants, dragging the tight fabric down Sawyer’s thighs and calves in a single,
rough motion, tossing the clothes onto the floor grating. Sawyer sat completely
bare on the edge of the metal bench, his cock hard and flushed, leaking clear
fluid onto his lower abdomen. The dry heat from the catalytic burner washed over
his bare skin, making his entire body thrum with intense, urgent friction.
Declan unbuckled his heavy tactical trousers with steady, unhurried fingers,
kicking his boots and pants aside.
Sawyer looked at the man standing between his spread knees. Declan was massive,
his thighs thick with dense muscle, his eight-inch cock standing rigid, heavy,
and thick against his lower belly. The sheer physical presence of the man made
Sawyer’s throat dry. For months, Sawyer had felt untethered, bouncing from one
dangerous alpine line to the next; looking up at Declan, he felt the heavy
anchor of total surrender drop deep into his gut.
Declan leaned down, scooped Sawyer off the workbench into his arms, and carried
him two steps to the bunk. He laid Sawyer flat across the heavy wool blanket,
sliding a rolled down pillow under Sawyer’s left shoulder to protect the healing
joint from strain.
"Keep that arm down on the cushion," Declan ordered, his voice thick with
gravelly authority. "I am going to handle the work."
Declan reached up to the medical supply shelf above the bunk, pulling down a
foil tube of sterile lubricating gel. He uncapped the tube with his teeth,
squeezing a generous amount of cool gel across his thick fingers.
Declan knelt on the edge of the mattress, lifting Sawyer’s muscular legs,
resting Sawyer’s calves over his broad shoulders. He pressed his slick thumb
against Sawyer’s tight entrance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the
sensitive ring of muscle until Sawyer’s hips lifted off the wool blanket.
"Declan, please," Sawyer groaned, his head tilting back against the mattress,
his good right hand gripping the steel rail of the bunk.
"Look at me, Sawyer," Declan commanded, pressing one thick finger past the rim
into Sawyer’s burning heat.
Sawyer opened his eyes, meeting Declan’s dark, unyielding gaze. Declan worked
his finger inside with smooth, heavy strokes, pressing directly against the
swollen prostate gland. A sharp, intense wave of pleasure shot straight through
Sawyer’s groin, making his toes curl against Declan’s back.
"Good boy," Declan praised rough and low, sliding a second thick finger inside
alongside the first. "Tight and hot as hell. Relax your hips for me."
Declan stretched him with steady, circular pressure, his large palm coming down
to wrap firmly around Sawyer’s leaking cock, stroking the sensitive shaft in
rhythm with his fingers. Sawyer writhed on the mattress, overwhelmed by the dual
friction, his cries echoing against the curved steel panels of the dome.
"You take my hands so well, Sawyer," Declan growled, his thumb rubbing over the
sensitive head of Sawyer’s cock, slicking the pre-cum down the shaft. "Now I'm
going to put my cock inside you, and you're going to take every single inch."
Sawyer reached down with his right hand, his fingers curling into the thick
muscle of Declan’s forearm, pulling the big man forward. "Put it in, Declan.
Fill me up right now."