Chapter 3
Graham’s hand slides off him and he hears the submissive sigh quietly. Does it feel like a weight has been lifted off him? Does it feel like Graham can finally breathe? No one can hold themselves that tightly, carry the load of their designation and not have it crush them.
There’s a reason the military’s number one priority is pairing up their designated soldiers. Modern-day elite fighting pairs that can take on the world like Achilles and Patroclus or something.
Colton clasps his hands in his lap so Graham knows he won’t touch him. Graham steps around the edge of the bench and collapses down next to him, only a few inches between them.
Closer than Colton expected.
Maybe because he knows he could destroy Colton with one punch if he wanted to. Colton is no slouch. He’s six feet tall. He’s been through the designation program. He works out and trains. His military training is brutal. But he’s nothing like the man beside him.
Physically, they’re very different. Though he’s pretty sure they’re close to the same height.
“I hate the way most Dominants smell,” Graham says.
“I was out on an exercise before this. I didn’t have time to get more presentable. Sorry about that.” Colton tries to say it casually but the comment is more devastating than it should be. Pheromones and scent are critical when it comes to attraction between enhanced men.
“No, I…” He runs out of words. “Not you,” Graham finally says.
Colton looks at the clock curiously. It’s been ten minutes. He hasn’t any idea if that seems right.
Graham chuckles unhappily. “Go ahead. I didn’t say you needed to sit here for fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not leaving. I don’t want to leave. It was just somewhere to look. Curious, I guess. It’s been ten minutes. Does that seem right to you?”
Graham doesn’t answer. Instead, he shivers, wraps an arm around his own stomach, shoulders hunching in. Graham’s dropping hard and it hurts.
Colton tilts his head to the side in invitation. If the submissive wants to press up against him and breathe him in, Colton will allow it.
Graham’s thigh presses against his. That small touch is electric. It feels like surrender, as if he’s been given a gift. But Graham doesn’t move closer.
Colton’s instincts are telling him that Graham can’t bring himself to move closer. He’s almost positive the submissive wants to. He needs Graham to make the decision.
“I’m going to unzip my jacket. It’s very warm in here. Is that alright? Just don’t want to startle you. Sudden movements and all.”
“I’m a super soldier, not a cat.”
“Good point,” Colton says, flashing a smile.
Graham’s brows are drawn together tight, his head dropped, his fingers white as they press hard into his own stomach. As if he’s trying to keep his insides where they belong.
Colton unzips his jacket and Graham swears low under his breath.
“I can smell you,” he says, quiet and hungry.
“You can touch me and I won’t touch you. I promise,” Colton says and wills himself not to get hard. But it feels like a victory. Colton won the first battle. Of course Colton’s body is reacting.
Graham drags in a noisy breath. His hand lifts, trembles as he brings it to Colton’s thigh and puts it down, bracing himself as he leans closer. Choosing to steady himself using Colton instead of the bench. Colton’s dick throbs, an unreasonable reaction to a hand on his thigh.
The connection between them is unlike anything Colton has ever felt before. He tilts his head and Graham presses closer in a quick movement, burying his face against Colton’s neck.
“Oh my fucking God,” Graham whispers, voice ragged, close to a moan, and Colton breaks out in goose bumps.
Graham’s breath is hot against his skin.
Colton laces his fingers together, holds them tight, concerned he’ll forget himself and touch Graham.
He’s squashing his own instincts down tight, certain that Graham will react badly if he asserts his dominance too soon.
But it’s fucking difficult when the sweet, struggling thing is shaking and panting needily against him.
Colton inhales and Graham’s scent cloys around him.
Fuck.
It’s dark and sharp. The scent of imbalance clings to him. Colton wants to come all over him, drown the submissive in his come, rub his sweaty body against him, lick his flesh, and remake him into something soft and healthy.
He drags himself back to the current moment. He cannot afford to imagine having Graham. This can still go wrong.
“Thank you. I like you touching me,” Colton offers, keeping his voice low. As if this is a secret between them.
“I don’t even know how.”
How does he sound so insecure? “I could offer a few suggestions?” Colton asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t mind either way. A friendly suggestion the submissive can accept or decline with no guilt.
“Yeah, okay… please.” The “please” is pulled from him, as if he couldn’t keep it back. His lips brush Colton’s neck.
Colton closes his eyes. What the hell are they talking about? “Oh. Uh, my chest or my stomach. Lift my shirt if you want.”
Graham’s head nods up and down, still pressed tight against Colton’s neck. His dry lips press against Colton’s skin more than once.
It isn’t an accident.
“Or my neck. All of the above,” Colton offers, chuckling weakly. He would not object to being groped by the gorgeous beefcake.
Graham’s hand fumbles at Colton’s T-shirt, which is annoyingly tucked into his pants like regulations require. Graham makes a frustrated sound, is so overwhelmed and uncoordinated he’s having trouble with the simple task.
“Can I help?”
“Fuck, fuck. You make me want to say yes,” Graham rasps. He kisses Colton’s neck, drops his hand to Colton’s inner thigh.
Colton jerks his own shirt up, grabs Graham’s hand, and moves it away from his crotch and to his stomach.
He doesn’t need the temptation.
That temptation is too much for Graham and he surrenders all at once. He moans loudly, his mouth opening, and then he’s licking and sucking at Colton’s neck while his hand roams all over Colton’s side, up his chest, between his pecs, and back down again.
As if Colton is a thing, is the submissive who gets groped and had when he’s desired. Colton’s eyes slam shut and he bites his own bottom lip hard, close to drawing blood, but it helps him stay still, focused on the end goal. He endures the onslaught, refuses to seize control.
Colton’s body is convinced this man is about to touch his cock and he’s ready for it. Get me out, honey. It’s the wrong thought. That isn’t what’s happening here. Colton cannot say that, even if that should be the logical conclusion of these touches.
A dropping submissive finds a Dominant they like and uses them to feel better. Takes their cock or their come, their grip or the pain they want to inflict, and everyone leaves happy and healthy.
But that’s not what’s about to happen, and Colton needs to fucking remember that.
This isn’t a submissive he can order to touch him or to get down on his knees.
“Tell me what you’d want to do to me,” Graham says, lips dragging across Colton’s jaw, tasting more of his skin.
Colton shivers. “I don’t know. We’d have to work it out.” Is this a trap?
“How? When?”
He doesn’t know. Has no idea. “A meal, maybe? Or elsewhere. Just not… in bed. And not like this. Gotta be… calm.”
“I’m burning. I think you’re burning me. I’m always so cold when I drop. But now my skin tingles. Pins and needles everywhere.”
“Is it bad or good?”
“No idea,” he says, sounding amused.
“A grip might help? It might give you something to anchor onto?”
Graham doesn’t answer. He’s breathing heavily, lost in his own little world, nose rubbing up and down Colton’s throat. Finally, Graham says, “I can’t let you grip my neck.” As if he’s reminding himself.
Which is a shame because a good grip on a submissive’s neck is arousing as hell for both of them. The most obvious sign of surrender, a shortcut to desperate arousal. It makes sense that a submissive determined to deny himself would take that off the table.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. What about your hands or your wrists? Can I hold you there?”
“I don’t… I don’t know. I can break your grip.”
“That’s good. Means I can’t do anything you don’t like.”
Graham pulls back, confused. His pupils are blown wide and his lips are pink. He licks them. They’re plump and close to pouting.
“Why do you care what I don’t like? Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not. I promise. This isn’t about me. It’s about you. I’m here for you. I just want to help.”
“Dominants like to hurt submissives.”
He can’t deny that because that’s usually part of how Dominants and submissives interact, but that’s not how it has to be. And that’s too simple. “Not that kind of hurt. A Dominant hurts a submissive if that’s what a submissive wants. That’s how it should be.”
The door opens, and the doctor Colton met earlier comes into the gym.
“I have to check him. I’m sorry.” She’s got a hormone monitor in her hand.
Graham trembles, shifts closer to Colton.
The doctor sees Graham burrow closer. “He doesn’t like doctors or needles. Too many visits, I think.”
“Okay. So what do you do?” Colton asks and puts a hand on Graham’s back to soothe him.
“We usually restrain him. Or I can stun him and—”
“The fuck you will,” Colton snaps instinctively.
Graham whimpers. His face presses hard into Colton’s neck and his hand slides down to Colton’s inner thigh and slides higher, the side of his hand pressing against the bulk of Colton’s cock. Colton winces and forces himself not to react.
“Put it next to the chair. I’ll do it.” They can’t stun him! And just to check his hormones? That’s insane!
“With all due respect, Private, we’ve got to check his vitals and get him started on treatment.”
“Why am I here if you’re not going to give me a chance?”
“Technically, this is Director Fein’s plan, not mine. If he lashes out—”
Graham whines quietly at her words and shoves even closer. He’s fucking strong and Colton braces his leg so they don’t slide down the bench.