Chapter 18
OAKLEY
The absolute dark of Silas’s bedroom has given me the best nights of sleep in my life. I like the sun, I like rising with the sun, but there’s just something about a dark room.
My phone buzzes, and Sy shifts against me, little spoon-style.
It’s not Wimberley’s buzz pattern.
“I’m ignoring that,” I say, reaching for his balls, enjoying the weight of them in my hand.
“Mm, good,” he responds, sleepy.
Only half awake, I run my nose along a bare patch of his neck, then press my lips to the warm skin, lightly squeezing him. He makes the most adorable sounds, shifting against me.
I release his balls and let my hand drift to his chest, thumbing a sensitive nipple. His breathing changes, and he presses his ass against my crotch. I lightly pinch the soft flesh between my thumb and forefinger, which elicits my favorite sound in the world: Silas’s moan.
Cupcake, who has grown accustomed to our morning shenanigans, lets out a small huff and relocates from the foot of the bed to her very large, very nice dog bed on the floor.
Poor baby.
I go back to kissing his neck, this time down the side and onto his shoulder. We had a pretty intense session last night, so I turn on the salt lamp next to my side of the bed, checking to make sure his hole has recovered.
My phone buzzes again, but I do not give a fuck about whatever brunch the Wildlings have planned.
Accustomed to the low light, I pull aside one of his cheeks, one of the few places on his body he’s not inked. He looks good, but still a little loose. I reach across him to the bedside table and grab the lube.
He’s reiterated to me several times that I can take him whenever I want. I’ve always done a check-in, but…maybe not this morning.
I slick my cock and stroke it to hardness. Pulling aside his ass cheek again, I slowly, gently feed my length into the hot clench of his body. He’s so slippery and ready for me. I slide in to the hilt, pressing my hand against his muscled belly.
He stretches against me, snaking his arms back behind my neck. Rolling his hips.
“Pinch my nipples again,” he says softly. “Hard, please.”
I angle us so I can get both hands on him, then do as he asked. His nipples are a bit on the smaller side, or maybe they just seem that way compared to my blunt fingers. I work them up to hard pebbled peaks.
“Oak…” he moans. “Please.”
I grin, giving his nipples a few more swirls before pinching, hard, just like he asked. Sy grunts, throwing his head against my shoulder, breathing heavily. I increase the pressure, pulling on the sensitive skin.
“Fuck,” he chokes out. “You’re so perfect.”
I add a tiny little twist to each side, and he sounds dangerously close to coming.
“Don’t come yet, baby.”
He writhes against me. “I might not be able to help it.”
I bite down on his shoulder right as I release his nipples.
“I’m going to fucking murder you in your sleep,” he growls.
“Sure, but then who else would make you feel this good?”
“Fuck. Nobody.” He sighs. “You get to live.”
My cock, fully on board, twitches in his ass. I shift away from his nipples and grip his shoulders as I roll my hips, carefully, gently fucking into him.
“This still feels good? You’re not too sore?”
“I like it,” he says.
Thrusting slow and deep, I run my open palm against his hard abs, bypassing his cock to rub his thighs, letting my thumbs graze the crease.
“Bastard,” he grits out. “Speed up, put a hand on my cock, something.”
I grin, ignore the buzzing phone, and take it up a notch, side fucking him hard enough that the nightstand shakes. The ridiculous dragon dildo, which I set out to dry last night, wobbles, then tips over, bouncing to the floor.
Sy laughs, another favorite sound of mine, and I finally wrap my large hand around his already weeping cock.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, undulating against me as I hammer into him.
I tip us over, still connected, needing more leverage. Using our combined bodyweight against my grip on his cock, I still my hand and let my thrusts work him over.
“Who are you?” I whisper aggressively in Silas’s ear.
“Yours.”
My breath catches. I was looking for him to answer with something saucier. Something along the lines of “your cum dump.” But his answer is so much better. More accurate too.
“Mine,” I whisper against his neck, that one word enough to push me over the edge.
I speed up, forcing his orgasm, spilling into him, loving how messy we are.
And maybe, probably, loving him.
That thought causes another catch in my throat.
It’s been creeping in around the edges over the last several days.
This has never been just some sort of weird fuck-buddy situationship.
It’s always been more. And as much as I enjoyed my previous slutty little lifestyle, this thing we’ve been doing? This is everything.
As I begin to wrap my head around where this is all going, Cupcake, nearly invisible in the dark shadows of the room, growls. Seconds later, there’s banging at the front door.
“Oakley!” shouts a distressed voice. “Oakley, are you here?”
Oh…fuck. I pull out of Sy too fast, and he hisses in pain.
“Sorry, baby. That’s my dad.”
Silas stiffens, then grabs his phone and pulls up the door camera app.
“Ro, don’t jump to conclusions,” my father says as he presses his palm to the reader on Silas’s door.
“A little hard to jump to conclusions when the transcript is right fucking there,” Dad says, pushing his way in.
Cupcake attacks the bedroom door, barking and snapping like she’s about to go through it.
“The fuck?” Silas growls.
Footsteps sound from the living room and Cupcake loses her mind.
“Cupcake, drop,” he compels, his voice dark as murder. I don’t need to look to know his eyes are black.
Matte black.
Killer black.
With a whimper, Cupcake obeys the override command, going to the floor.
My brain is still stuck on Dad’s words.
The transcript?
As Sy would say…double fuck.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This is my fault. I forgot about the goddamned transcripts. Even the private communications on an op are recorded. I know this, and I one hundred percent forgot.
Or maybe I just forgot that since that was my first op to debrief, my dads would, of course, be paying attention.
“They’re coming in, one way or another,” I warn Silas.
I drag him back, then manage to pull the sheet over us as his bedroom door explodes inward.
Papa turns on the overhead light, and Dad is standing there with a fucking holster strapped to his shoulder.
There’s no hiding what we were doing, especially when Sy not-so-surreptitiously pushes the massive dragon dildo under his bed with his toe.
Cupcake, still in the drop position, is shaking and growling.
Every being in this room is a compressed spring on a hair trigger, waiting to explode.
Papa, looming large, rubs the back of his head as Dad, thankfully, leaves the goddamned hand cannon holstered.
“What. The fuck. Is going on here?” Dad asks, punctuating each phrase with a ragged breath.
Silas ducks his head, covering his eyes. He reaches for his collar, forgetting that he’s not wearing a shirt. He curses, then feels above the headboard, pulling down a pair of his dark tactical sunglasses. He puts them on.
I place my hand on his chest. “I’ve got this,” I whisper.
Turning my attention to Papa, I narrow my eyes.
“Silas and I are obviously in the middle of an intimate moment. Can one of you explain the need to break into his place, armed to the teeth?” I gesture to the ceiling.
“And turn off the fucking light. It hurts his eyes.”
“Don’t use your reasonable voice with me, young man.”
Papa grabs Dad’s arm. “Ro.” He shifts his attention to me. “We read the ops report, saw him hallucinate in that warehouse. Read the script of you two talking.”
“We tried to call you,” Dad says, his breath ragged. “And you never picked up the phone.”
Yep. Totally my fault.
Except…no.
“That still doesn’t give you the right to fucking break into Sy’s condo!” I stare at my fathers, wondering what the fuck possessed them. “And he wasn’t hallucinating. As it states in the report, he had a PTSD flashback.”
I give Dad a significant look. We’ve all seen him work through a flashback. I don’t even need to tell him how hypocritical he’s being right now.
“And shut that fucking light off. I’ve already asked you once. Don’t make me turn it off for you,” I say, reaching for the sheet.
Papa gives Sy a hard look, then makes his way to the wall and turns off the overhead. The one salt lamp on my side throws everything into Halloween shadows and Dad’s breath goes funny.
“I’m taking off my sunglasses. And I’m going to reach over and turn on the lamp on my side,” Sy says. After hesitating to make sure, I dunno, that my dad doesn’t go for his gun, Sy slowly, carefully does as he said.
In the meantime, Cupcake still looks like she’s going to vibrate out of her skin.
“Bring Cup onto the bed with us,” I say, glaring at my fathers.
“Cupcake, come,” Sy commands, and she flies to the bed, curling against his front. I tighten my arm around his waist from behind, and he lets out a slow breath, sandwiched between his two protectors.
Sy looks up at me, his eyes shifting to silver blue. His expression holds such vulnerability.
Despite the tension in the room, I kiss his cheek. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
He smiles. I love him so much.
“Oakley,” Dad says, his voice breaking, “you cannot be with this man. You know what his father did to me. Junior is ten times more dangerous than Senior ever was.”
I expect Sy to shut down. Instead, he breathes. Cupcake licks his face, and he relaxes by fractions. Turns his head to kiss my shoulder. My fathers watch on in horror. I nuzzle Sy’s ear.
“That man was not my father,” Silas says, his voice steady. “My name is Silas Hernandez. My fathers are Erik and Ant Hernandez. And I would never harm Oakley or anyone I love.”
Dad snorts. “What the hell do you know about love?”